Return of the King's Sister
by Kelyse Llewes
Summary: Aranee, the Lady of the Mountain, comes upon a serious dilemma when she finds out her long lost brother has come to Minis Tirith and been crowned king. Please R&R.
1. Tis Just the Beginning

**Chapter One: Tis Just the Beginning**

In the mouth of the cave she stood, waiting for the wounded to come in. She had never really thought about saving lives when she was younger, but it was talent she had happened upon the first time she'd seen her best friend get hurt. In Minas Tirith there were always people who needed help, people bleeding, wounded, or just dying of natural causes. It was an awful sight most of the time, but she got used to it. It was rather easy too, she found, helping people get better was worth going through the horrible sights of seeing them bleeding and screaming in pain. It was different now as well, knowing that the end might be near. She heard the cries from down below and it was heart breaking. But she would soldier on, just as she had done for the past few months, even years, of her short life.

"Aranee? What are ye doing standing there girl?"

Aranee spun round and saw the head healer standing there wiping her hands on her blood-stained skirt. "Nothing Ninia," she replied, looking over the withered healer. She looked so old. The war had definitely taken its toll of some people, Ninia being one of them. "I'm just waiting for more wounded."

Ninia huffed, as she always did and said, "And ye'll be waiting for longer than a coon's age for it. This here tavern is full up and I've just sent a guard to let Denethor know. So you'll be good enough to come back in and make fairly certain ye don't get yerself into trouble."

Aranee smiled at Ninia. The old woman had grey hair and soft skin with wrinkles. She always covered her hair up with handkerchief though so it never got in the way of her healing. But as a White Witch, she still had the bluest of blue eyes. "Coming Ninia," Aranee replied.

She could hear them coming as she went back into the center of the cave, a hundred thousand Uhri-Khai and Orcs, coming to kill them all. It was to destroy the world of men, for they had seemingly outlived their purpose in Sauron's eyes. Aranee's eyes dipped and she folded her hands in her skirt. To outlive one's purpose was to die. But Aranee was not yet ready to die; she felt it instinctively. She'd only just begun her life. She didn't want to go out like this. She needed honor and valor to be a part of her farewell. And this was not her idea of honor and valor. It was honorable to those who were dying, but she couldn't help but feel there was something else out there for her, something more.

"Good Lord, my lord Faramir, is he alive?" Ninia came rushing past Aranee and towards the cave entrance. There on a stretcher lay the Lord Faramir, son of Denethor. Two soldiers, the white wizard, Gandalf, and a small hobbit, brought him in and placed him on the hard rock ground.

"He lives Ninia," Gandalf said with a tired look in his eyes. It had been a long time since he had rested, and it was likely to be a long time more before he saw sleep. "Denethor was trying to burn him alive."

Aranee ran to Faramir's side and started pulling away his tunic. Her friend was wounded...again, and she needed to help him, save him from his pain and suffering. "Denethor was? Why?" She was infuriated with the man whom she had lived under. It was like him to forgo all logic and do something terrible, but so soon after learning of his first son's death was madness.

"The city is under siege, we must return as soon as possible. Denethor saw the numbers scattered across the field and fled, telling everyone else to flee. He lost his mind, I fear. He is dead. He was set afire in the tomb of kings and ran off the city."

Ninia covered her mouth in horror. "He truly was mad then?" she whispered through her fingers.

"Yes, indeed he was, but only after seeing his son on a stretcher with arrows protruding did his mind truly falter." He then turned to the hobbit beside him. "Come Pippin, we must to the gates at once or else I fear all will end badly."

Aranee looked up at those words and glanced at Gandalf and the small hobbit beside him. "Is there hope for a victory, Gandalf?"

"There is always hope," Gandalf replied before taking off at a quick pace with Pippin running at his side.

Aranee sighed with relief after hearing the old wizard's words. He was much wiser than she and Aranee was thankful that they had hope on their side. She turned back to Faramir, her friend, and his wounds. "My lord," she whispered as his eyes fluttered open. "Faramir? Come to me." She could feel the perspiration in her eyes coming, but she refused to give up the hope that Gandalf had claimed they always had. She refused to believe that there was no hope for her friend's wounds.

"Nee? Is that you?" Faramir gurgled, finally regaining consciousness.

"Aye my lord, 'tis I," she said with a smile on her face, overrun with gladness that Faramir was still alive and well on his way to healing. "How did you come to such a state?" she asked him with a slight smile.

"Lord Denethor told us to retake Osgiliath, but it was overrun, so we were slaughtered. I don't even know how I got here."

Aranee sighed and smiled to him, "Gandalf brought you. You are to be taken care of now, my lord." A smile always brought him back, whenever he was sad or angry. Her smiles were the best medicine, Faramir thought.

"Nee? How many times have I asked you to call me Faramir?" he smiled slightly through his pain and disillusion.

"Too many to count…Faramir."

* * *

"Éowyn? Éowyn? Are you okay?"

Her eyes fluttered open and focused in on her brother's face. How had she gotten there again? "Éomer?" she said, her voice scratchy and her body sore. Oh yes, she had stabbed the Witch-King. "What's going on?" she mumbled, trying to stretch out her aching body.

"It's over." Éomer was glad to see his sister's eyes open once more.

"Over?" she suddenly stopped her stretching. "What do you mean over?"

"Frodo tossed it in, Éowyn. The wee lad did it. Can you believe it? You've been unconscious with fever for two days now. Our land finally has peace." He was near ecstatic now. The world would be righted once more. He just knew it.

"Peace? Oh my word, are you sure? Is it truly over?" She was so afraid he wasn't telling the truth, or he was mistaken in some way. It had been too long since she had known peace that she didn't really remember what it felt like anymore.

"'Tis true sister. We are out of the darkness. And Aragorn gets crowned on the morrow at midday." His eyes traveled over his sister's face. It was soft and elegant, and strong. She was a powerful warrior of Rohan, and had persevered through her fever and pain.

"'Tis over then," she sighed happily.

Éomer smiled, "No sister, 'tis only the beginning. There is a new life here for us, for you and for me. 'Tis a beginning."

* * *

As the crowd surrounded the new king, Aranee watched from the window above. She didn't want to be a part of the festivities. She was glad for the new king, but she had not yet met him, and she didn't really like giving her allegiance to a man she hardly knew. It was just a peculiar notion she held, that she needed to know someone before she entrusted her loyalty to him, such as Faramir.

Aranee had only just gotten used to Denethor being her lord and master, and now she must adapt to a new lord and master. He seemed kind and honorable and he obviously cared for his people, but it was different when it came to her. She was just a little bit different from anyone else.

There came a knock on the door and Aranee turned to find Éowyn entering. Éowyn was turning out to be a good friend to Aranee, as she soon found out after healing Éowyn's sickness. "Éowyn?" She was all dressed up in her gold and navy blue gown and golden headpiece. "Are you not to go to the festivities?"

"I was just there, and the Lord Faramir sent me up to see if you were going to come down any time soon. Lord Aragorn wishes to meet the woman who has saved so many. Will you go Aranee?"

Aranee sighed and nodded slightly.

"You do not seem so thrilled about seeing Lord Aragorn."

"Well, in truth I am not. I have heard much about him and he sounds like an appealing and brave man, but I am still stirred by him. Where has he come from to be my king?" Aranee watched Éowyn sit down on the settee. She seemed nervous. "What is it?"

"Aragorn is a man of great honor and valor. He ran away from his past because he feared the Ring and its power. You do know that he is Isildur's heir, do you not?"

Aranee's eyes widened at the news, and she nearly gasped. "Isildur named this Aragorn heir? ...Was...was his father Arathorn?"

"Yes, his father died long ago though, as well as his mother."

Aranee nodded and gulped now feeling nervous herself. She looked away towards the window and watched the new king make tribute to the Age of Men and then walk towards his people. Among the crowd were the elves of Lothlorien.

From where Aranee sat at her window, she could see the elf, Arwen. Arwen was so beautiful, and so Aranee saw Aragorn put his arms around Arwen and cried in relief, she knew the elf princess was also in love. It showed as well. She looked pale however, almost too pale, as if she had just come back from illness, something Aranee knew a lot about. Looking back at Éowyn she smiled and nodded. "I will come now, just give me a moment."

Éowyn smiled and got up towards the door. She exited and left Aranee alone. Sighing once more Aranee moved towards the bedside table where she'd left her headpiece. She'd not had an occasion to don it for some time now so it was covered in dust. She cleared the dust away to reveal the sparkling gems of pale blue and clear. It matched her attire well. Her hair was a dark brown color and all her colors signified peaceful and calm emotions a feeling she had longed for since the war began. Her dress was the pale blue of her headpiece gems with silver embroidery. She had always loved blue and silver together. Blue was her color, and she'd stuck with it her entire life.

She placed it on her cleaned and shining hair and smoothed over her dress. She was ready to go outside now, to face her new king, no matter how much she'd rather avoid him.

* * *

Aragorn stood reserved from everyone else. He had said enough hellos and shaken enough hands for one day. It was time to retire to the grand hall with all his closest friends and enjoy some time with Arwen, whom he was immeasurably happy to see.

He held out his hand for his newly returned love. "Come Arwen," he said in her Elven language. "We shall dine."

Her dark lashes smiled at him as she nodded and took his arm. She looked so beautiful in her dress of mint green and her silver headpiece glistened in the sunlight and it made Aragorn smile to see her so happy with him once again.

He cleared his throat and his close friends turned towards him. "My friends," he said loudly, "It has been a long day we my queen and I tire. We now retire to the hall to dine. It has been a long fought battle and I'm sure we all need some rest. Feast now; mourn later, for this is a time of great celebration for our great land is once again free."

Cheers went up all around as he and Arwen turned to retreat into the white city palace.

As he began his ascent towards the entrance of the hall, Legolas and Faramir approached. Legolas came as a friend, knowing that he was welcome anywhere Aragorn was, and Faramir brought news.

"My lord," Faramir said, walking beside Aragorn, "I was told that you wish to see the Lady of the Mountain."

"The Lady of the Mountain?" Aragorn said with a frown on his face. He could not recall hearing the title before. "Who is she?"

Faramir looked slightly confused; he'd thought for sure the king had wanted to talk to Aranee. "The young woman who is responsible for the healing of so many brave soldiers is known as the Lady of the Mountain. Surely you knew that my lord?"

"It did not occur to me, no. But I know of the lady. She is to have my thanks for her thorough work and exceptional skills."

Faramir paused at these words, mouth almost twisting into a cringe. 'Exceptional skills' would not bring happiness to the Lady's ears, but Faramir knew his place and it was not his place to contradict the king.

Aragorn noticed Faramir's withdrawal however, and said, "What is it Faramir? You look as if I have said something to offend you." Faramir decided against his better judgment not to tell Aragorn and shared his thoughts with his new king. "Ah, I see," Aragorn replied upon hearing the news. "Then I shall be delicate."

Arwen was at his arm, quite reserved and quiet. She took in the setting around her and then decided to comment to Aragorn's dilemma. "Perhaps she requires some pleasant encouragement." Aragorn looked confused at the comment. "What I mean to say," Arwen continued, "is that not many people know you, so it is understandable for her to be hesitant of you. She needs proof that you are not a bad king."

Aragorn considered her words and nodded, "Yes, that may well be true." He turned to Legolas, who was also of Elven descent, therefore as wise as the Lady Arwen. "What are your thoughts Legolas?"

Legolas' eyes stirred and he glanced towards the steps. His thoughts were far from the question at hand however when he saw the glorious woman step out of the entrance hall and move towards their party. Beside her was the Lady Éowyn.

Aragorn noticed the distracted look on his old friends' face and followed his gaze. Then he saw what Legolas seeing. A tall and elegant woman, glittering in the sunlight in her pastel blue and silver gown with matching headpiece was standing beside Éowyn. She looked utterly ravishing, though not stirring any deeper feelings than those for his beloved, Arwen.

Faramir also noticed the illusiveness of the elf and now his king, and followed their gaze. His eyes settled on the sight of Éowyn first as she was dressed in beautiful gold and navy blue. She was a vision. Then he focused in on Aranee. She looked remarkable, far different from their younger days when she had been just as gangly and tough as he.

"My lord," Éowyn said, coming up to the four of them, though talking directly to Aragorn, "this is the Lady Aranee, the Lady of the Mountain."

Aranee curtseyed and settled her eyes on her new king's face, not at all as Aragorn had expected. Because of her illusiveness towards him, he had expected her to keep her eyes down and dare not look at him. But instead she did the exact opposite, which showed spirit. "My lord Aragorn," she said, "I am honored to make you're acquaintance."

Aragorn nodded his head in acknowledgment and smiled. "The honor is mine, Lady, for I have heard of all your great accomplishments regarding the wounded of Gondor and Rohan, as well as others from near and far. You are to be commended for your extremely talented skills of mending."

It was such a high level of flattery that Aranee stopped and sighed. She had not expected him to be so valiant, though because of the rumors, she had guessed him an honorable and courageous man. She returned his smile and said, "'Twas nothing my lord. Just a little bit of magic and myth mixed with herbs and hopes."

The king nodded to her and beckoned the others to follow, "Come friends, to supper."

Legolas sat beside the Lady of the Mountain. She sat tall and proud at the king's table. On her other side was Faramir, whom at the moment was in deep conversation with Éowyn of Rohan. They looked quite comfortable together. Aranee looked slightly bored, if not completely unimpressed by the state of the room's festivities. He pondered why. She was either expecting more of this dinner or she felt uncomfortable at her time down in the great hall. He assumed her times in the great hall were few and far between so this one time she came left her feeling agitated and unimpressed.

"Are you well my lady?" Legolas asked, chancing a conversation with the beautiful lady beside him.

Aranee popped out of her own thoughts and focused in on the elf. "Aye, my lord Legolas," she said. "I am quite fine, just a little tired. It has been a long endeavor over the past few days and months even. I'd like nothing better than to just curl up and go to sleep, my lord." She was almost hesitant to call him 'my lord' as her spunk and lack of formality for everything dictated otherwise in her own head.

Legolas let out a low chuckle. Either she was unaware that he was not royalty or she did not know how to address him, therefore she had called him a lord as she did the other men of the court. "You need not 'my lord' me my lady for I am just a simple woodland elf who happens to be far away from his home."

She smiled and had a rather surprised but pleasant look on her face after hearing his heritage. She asked, "Why so far, master elf?"

Legolas replied grandly, "To serve to protect the world I hold dear. Now that it is done, I do not know whether to return to my woodland realm or stay." He sighed, knowing he had not told this to anyone. No one normally asked matters so deep with an elf, for elves hid far inside themselves most of the time, only coming out bravely for battle.

"You must miss the green of the trees very much," Aranee commented, remembering her sole visit to Lothlorien when she was a little girl. She had gone with her mother so long ago, but she still remembered the lush greenery of the trees that stood nearly as tall as mountains.

"I do," Legolas admitted, "But I am at Aragorn's disposal until he chooses to give me leave."

Aranee frowned at the remark, knowing very well that she would never have had the same restraint to stay. She was not one to usually follow orders, no matter the person. She used to make quite a stir as a child, and only just followed orders from the Lord Denethor after he had threatened to have one of her close friends killed. It was a rude thing to do, and certainly uncalled for, but Aranee obeyed just for the sake of keeping her friend safe. But still, as an independent elf, who missed his home as much as he claimed, she found it strange that he would stay. "You make it sound like you serve him, Legolas? Were you not his friend first and foremost? Does that not give you precedence as just a friend and not as a soldier in his army?"

"I am his friend," Legolas replied, dropping his voice slightly, "but I am also a servant of my land. As an elf I do not have to pledge allegiance towards a man king, but to a friend I would gladly help, I am willing to make that vow." He knew well that Aranee doubted his loyalty towards Aragorn, possibly because she did not know the two of them as friends and just as King and Elven warrior. In any case, Legolas was bound by friendship towards the new king, and Aranee respected that.

Aranee looked over the elf's face and smiled. She liked the way his voice sounded, surprisingly, unlike anyone else she had ever talked to, other than Faramir, but he was more brother now than anything else. Legolas' voice however was strong, firm and full of respect, and yet it was also soft. It was serious, yet whimsical. She did not know how to explain it for the most part. Perhaps it was the elf in him she loved as she had always found the Elven race such a fascinating kind. Or perhaps it was the manlike qualities he possessed, the strong sense of authority, but willingness to protect his king through friendship, that made her feel more comfortable beside him. He was easy to talk to after having many months of tending to wounded soldiers and the other women healers who stayed behind to help.

Legolas cleared his throat suddenly, having at last found the courage to say something, and said, "I did not want to startle you before because I did not know you my lady, but I think you are very becoming in your gown."

Aranee smiled greatly, not really knowing if she had blushed or not, and she turned her head so her hair fell over her shoulder covering her face. The compliment made her stomach burn and her heart ache. She did not know why the compliment made her feel like this, but it just did. "Thank you, master elf."

"Legolas," he corrected, "please, call me Legolas, My lady."

"As you will call me Aranee, Legolas. I am not exactly partial to being acknowledged as a lady yet."

"Yet?" he questioned, thinking she was another noblewoman of Minas Tirith and used to being acknowledged as such. He guessed wrong he supposed.

"I am a healer, Legolas," Aranee explained, "therefore not accustomed to the title. I was always called Aranee before and it is what I am comfortable with. Faramir calls me Nee, but only because I let him." She was about to continue once more, but unfortunately she was interrupted Aragorn.

"Lady Aranee, Faramir has told me of your wild adventures when you were younger. Is it true you set afire to your bedroom curtains just to cause distraction so as to steal food from the kitchens?" He had been deep in conversation with Faramir previously, and was intrigued at the image it brought to mind, one totally different to the present image of Aranee sitting in her pale blue gown.

Aranee laughed as the memory resurfaced. It had happened when she was a little girl, a devious little girl most called her. "Aye, my lord, I did indeed do that. But I was not alone in that endeavor. As I recall, Boromir _and_ Faramir were there right alongside me, causing distraction in their own rooms as well."

Faramir laughed aloud, having been listening in on the conversation, and said, "Distraction maybe, but none as drastic as setting our window curtains aflame."

"Well, nevertheless, I am not the only one to blame for that night's excursions. Pray, my lord," she said to Aragorn, "What else did the fair Faramir tell you?" She found it rather odd that Faramir had been discussing her with the new King, but it was also comforting.

"Just that you were a wild child when you were younger, and now are a reserved young woman devoted to helping the sick and wounded." Aragorn's eyes sparkled at her and she nodded her head. She was beginning to like him.

Legolas smiled at the new information he was being presented with through this conversation. It was nice to find a woman with fire and spirit, much like himself in a lot of ways, but very different in others.

Aranee continued her conversation with Aragorn and Faramir afterwards and then when everyone had finished eating, she politely excused herself from the table and returned to her room, with a smile on her face, hoping that tomorrow would be much the same, only excitingly different as well.


	2. The Lady of the Mountain

**Chapter Two: The Lady of the Mountain**

There was silence cast over the great city of Minas Tirith. The only sounds were those of the morning serf's who were setting about to clean the castle before everyone woke.

Aranee sat on her balcony that set herself above everything else in the city. Aranee did not live in the palace like the others. Instead she lived high above in the mountains, which had earned her the name Lady of the Mountain. Her home was set in a large cavern beside where the Beacon was mounted. She'd chosen this place because of its isolation. She liked to be alone. Ever since she was a little girl she'd liked to be alone. She'd lived in the palace until she was grown and the war began, then she moved out because she could not bear the horror of Gondor politics. Denethor was not too lenient in dealings with other Middle Earth nobles, or his battle formations. If men were not to his liking, he would dismiss them without even hearing their pleas. He was a very suspicious man to say the least. And if men were not mortally wounded, he would insist they keep to their posts, even if the men in question could hardly stand, or hold a sword. It was this that had second compelled her to becoming a healer. The first was when Faramir had broken his collarbone as a boy. And ever since then she'd been obligated to help those who could not help themselves.

Adjusting to this newfound peace was hard for her though. Adjusting to her newfound king was harder still. Her instincts told her that Aragorn would indeed be a good king. And his fate would not be tied to the Ring like Isildur's was. This made her calm somewhat.

But the fact still remained that his father had been Arathorn, a name not unknown to Aranee. Far from it, in fact. The fact was somewhat frightening, and terribly worrisome.

* * *

Arwen gazed across the table at her love. He looked troubled. She wished he would share his troubles with her. As she was about to say something, Faramir entered the room, closely followed by Éowyn and Éomer.

"My lord," Faramir nodded at Aragorn, then to Arwen, "My lady."

"Faramir," Aragorn said, "You have come to join my breakfast table?"

"Aye my lord. If it is fitting?"

"Have not a doubt in your mind. You are always welcome here. Lady Éowyn, Éomer, you are welcome as well."

"My lord," Éomer said, nodding his head. He was never all that close to Aragorn, but he was close enough to have the trust and respect of the great warrior.

Faramir sat beside Aragorn, as did Éowyn. Éomer sat opposite them beside Arwen. The others remaining in the castle seemed still asleep.

Éowyn was the first to speak, and it was to Faramir. "Where does Aranee stay, Faramir? I noticed her leave the castle when everyone goes to their rooms and she did not return."

"Ah she did return, but probably not in view of any windows of the keep. She lives where the Beacon resides. Her home is high in the mountain where she finds peace."

Arwen frowned at that, "Peace? Doesn't she find it lonely?"

"Of course my lady, but she stays there even with all her loneliness. After she left to live there, I once tried to convince her to come back down and live with us again, but she refused. She is very testy when you push her."

Arwen nodded at the information. Aragorn seemed to nod as well at the information, though he had not been included in the conversation as much as the others had been. It was strange to hear of such a woman choosing solitude over life in the city.

"When does she come down?" Éomer asked.

"When she sees fit. Because she lives so high up, she has eyes and ears over the entire valley, so she comes down through the inner mountain tunnel to the back of my chamber, and slips through."

"Your chamber?" Aragorn said, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes. The tunnel was built directly from the back of my chamber and it is the only passage to the castle without her having to precariously climb down the rock face. She's been going to the cavern since we were little. Father was rather hard on her when we were young. He was hard on all of us. And because she was not his daughter, he had no right to do so. He could not call upon her like he could Boromir and myself. She was a free spirit, so when she needed to escape, she went to the cavern. Now she comes down when she senses wounded or illness, or even death. She has a very good ear for those kinds of things. She hears everything at that height." As he spoke, he enthralled all those sitting at the table. They looked at him with aw, and compassion showed through his speech towards Aranee. He indeed cared for her very much.

"She only comes down to tend to wounded?" Éomer asked, setting his mind to the task of finding out more about the young maiden. The other night he had not spoken to her because Legolas had been with her, but he had felt sure that she was an intriguing character. And she had beauty to her that could not compare.

"Aye, she does. Or when she sees fit. It really all depends on her mood."

* * *

Éomer walked along the streets of Minas Tirith, taking a short break from his hard labor. He and the other men of the city had started to rebuild some of what was damaged. There were some things that could not be repaired until they attained good stone from the quarry opposite them at Osgiliath, and that would take months to bring over. It was hard work, but it proved to be quite satisfying after something was rebuilt.

Éomer walked up to Legolas and Faramir, who were also taking a break. "Things are going quite well," he commented.

The other men were sweaty and drinking from a large barrel of water set out for the workers. "Indeed, things are progressing nicely," Faramir commented.

"With any luck, Aragorn will be able to make a deal with the elves of Rivendell and Lothlorien and we will get the much needed stone we need. The elves have wonderful stone that is strong and sturdy," Legolas said, making the remark upon his own elven culture.

"Aye," Éomer said, "I have heard as much. Aragorn and Lady Arwen can do such a thing. It will bring prosperity and wealth to Minas Tirith, that is for sure."

"When do you return to Edoras?" Faramir asked, picking up the water ladle and dipping it into the water barrel. The cool from sitting in the shade and it tasted wonderful.

"When Minas Tirith is complete. It is an obligation Éowyn and myself feel towards Aragorn. We do not mind it here at all."

Faramir nodded, thinking of the day when Éowyn was to leave the city. That would be a grave day, but he knew she was now Lady of Rohan, and was to rule in the golden hall in her uncle's stead. Theoden had died in the great battle, and so she was the new ruler of Rohan, as per the instruction that Theoden had left before leaving Edoras. Faramir felt some distress in seeing her leave. He had grown quite attached to her in the past month.

Legolas saw the look in Faramir's eyes and nodded to himself, acknowledging what he saw as love for Éowyn. "Come along," he said, "We should get back to work."

* * *

Walking down the cold and deserted tunnel, Aranee thought of Faramir and Éowyn, her old friend and her new friend. It was unmistakable that Éowyn had feelings for Faramir, and Faramir had feelings for Éowyn. The way she laughed around him when he talked. The way he was enraptured by everything she said. They were in love, and it was evident. Aranee had some sight from above in her isolated place, but she also had a sight when up close, and she could sense emotions sometimes when it was strong enough. It wasn't really a special skill or anything; just something she had happened to come by when she was younger.

Faramir was her oldest and dearest friend. He was the same age and they were both born in the same month, days apart from each other. She had never found that she loved him in any other way than as a brother, so it was all right for him to be in love with someone else. And Aranee knew Éowyn only a month and a bit, but she knew Éowyn's character and her compassion was evident. It was pleasing to see her new friend and old friend together.

Coming down to the end of the tunnel she lifted her skirts to jump a small gap in the tunnel floor. It was no more than a foot wide, but in depth it was nearly twenty feet to the ledge. The door of the tunnel ahead of her was five feet by four feet. It wasn't that wide, or tall for that matter, but Aranee could fit through it, even if she was 5 foot 6 inches. Faramir could fit through as well, for he was the only one who visited her that way. He also summoned her plenty of times when Lord Denethor requested her presence. She went through the hole that served as a door, and closed the door behind her, and came face to face with Faramir. She yelped and fell back against the closed door. She fell in a heap on the floor and sighed. She wasn't usually this jumpy, but he had really startled her.

"Oh my Aranee!" Faramir said, just as surprised as she had been.

Aranee shook the thought and started to get up. "Faramir, goodness you nearly made me jump out of my own skin."

Faramir laughed as he gave her a hand up. "You forget this is my room Nee. You should have known I would be in here."

She smiled as she stood, "Yes I suppose. But, I thought you would be out still with your men in the city."

He shook his head. "You must have been off in your own world Nee. I know you well enough to know you watch the city as if it was your child. There is nothing you don't notice here. You knew I came into the palace."

She nodded and said, "True, I did have the idea of you being in here, but I suppose I was being careless with my thoughts. My mind was wandering."

Faramir smiled and went away from her towards his clothes trunk. She followed him closely with her eyes, marking his every step. He was indeed handsome. "What have you come for?" he asked.

"Dinner," she said smiling. "Have _you_ forgotten what time it is?"

"All right Nee, there's no need to be sassy. Let me get ready and I shall accompany you to dinner."

Aranee dipped her head. "What about Éowyn?" she said.

Faramir's head snapped at the question. "What do you mean, 'what about Éowyn?'"

"Are you not accompanying her to dinner?"

"What gave you that idea?" he asked, as he was putting on his vest.

"Come on Faramir. You don't have to lie to me. I know you have feelings for her. Have you asked her about it?"

"No. Have you?" Aranee raised her eyebrow, and Faramir shrugged defeat. "Okay, okay, all right. I know you know. You fiend, you know everything."

She laughed, "Not everything friend. Just enough."

Faramir turned to look at her. "Do you know if she likes me?"

"How could she not? God Faramir, you believe yourself to be detestable, with the way you're acting." She walked towards him and put her hands on his forearms. "You are a great man Faramir. Even if I had not known you my entire life I would have seen it in a glance."

He looked deep into her eyes and she looked back. There was a true friendship in the relationship they shared. He pulled her into his arms and embraced her. He hugged her close and shared the special moment together.

"Ah, Aranee. You are so very dear to me. Is there any hope that you could be as happy as I?"

"What makes you think I am not happy?"

"From the way you are alone. From the way you look at the people around you and then look away. You are not happy being the Lady of the Mountain, Nee. Why do you not tell Aragorn?"

Her eyes popped open and she pulled away from him in haste. "Tell him? How can I?"

He raised an eyebrow and said, "By simply talking to him. He needs to know. They all need to know who you are."

"They know who I am Faramir. They need not know the rest." She turned and walked away from him. Her head was whirling with nervousness. Faramir was right, but she could not begin to conceive how Aragorn would take the news.

"You fear how he will react then Nee?" Faramir said, as if reading her mind. "He will react stunned and upset at first, not thinking it possible. But he will come to see the similarities between you and himself. You must tell him you are his sister."

She gasped at his bluntness and spun to face him. She was sure he knew, but she never thought he would admit it. "How can you say that? He won't believe me. He will never be able to come to terms with the fact. How can I tell him?"

"God, Aranee, I just told you how. Weren't you listening? I'll tell him even if you won't."

"You wouldn't dare? He won't believe you anymore than he will me. Faramir, can't you just let it be? If I tell him I tell him, if I don't I don't. Please just keep quiet." She pleaded with him to make him stay quiet. If anything she wanted to tell Aragorn herself, but she didn't know if there was ever going to be a time.

"Fine, fine. I'll stay as silent as the grave. But you know my thoughts on the matter. You have to tell him eventually." He went forward and put his hand on her chin, making her look at him. "You know how I feel about it."

She touched his hand with hers and melted towards his body. She loved him so dearly, and even though he didn't like the way she acted sometimes, he let it slide, and loved her still. "Thank you Faramir."

She stood in his arms for mere minutes when suddenly she went stiff. She raised her head from his shoulder and looked around tensely.

Faramir knew that look and looked where she looked, "What's happened?"

She let go of his arms and darted for the door, "Someone's been hurt."

* * *

Lifting the boulder had been a great task for Éomer and Legolas. They had thought that they could lift it into place without any help. They tugged and tugged on the rope, which was attached to the boulder on the other end. It hadn't really worked out that way though.

They levered it off the ground and then it was in the air. When it was almost at the ledge they had aimed for, the rope started to stretch. It stretched right near where Legolas was holding on. He saw this and tried to grab the length just ahead of the stretch, but as soon as he let one hand off the rope to reach for it, it slipped from Éomer's grasp. From the angle of the boulder, it was directly above them. When Éomer saw it fall he leapt out of the way, but Legolas wasn't fast enough. It came down, just as he was about to get out of the way. Instead it knocked him down at the waist and crushed his legs.

He cried out in agony and Éomer was screaming for help. Legolas' vision started to blur when a whoosh of air hit him in the face. It was from a skirt that was now directly in front of him.

"Try and move the boulder off him," Aranee said to the guards that had accompanied her and Faramir down. "We have to free his legs."

There was an immediate shuffle of feet and in less that a minute, the weight on his legs was lifted. Aranee grabbed his underarms and heaved him from under the hovering boulder. She set him back down and turned him on his back. He looked up into her face and she smiled, "Stay with me Legolas. Ignore the pain and keep consciousness."

"WHAT HAPPENED?"

Aranee whirled her head and saw Aragorn and Arwen coming rushing towards them. "Calm Aragorn. It was just an accident." Aranee tried to warn her king, but he was still frantic.

"Get out of the way," he ordered, shoving her to the side. "Legolas, Legolas, can you hear me?"

Legolas nodded his head and Aragorn sighed in relief.

Aranee shifted to her feet again and coughed to get his attention. When Aragorn looked at her she smiled sarcastically, "Aragorn, will you kindly step aside it let me heal Legolas. He may be your best friend, but I am the best healer around. So," she then changed the tone of her voice to harsh and very firm and said, "MOVE!"

Aragorn was up on his feet in the blink of an eye, but not because she had told him to. Now he knew it wasn't in him to yell at a woman, let alone a healer, and it wasn't that he wanted to be a harsh king, but it was a simple reaction what he did next. "You cannot tell me to 'move'. He is my friend and my powers of healing are just as strong as yours are. So if you'll excuse me, I'm the king and he's my best friend, so you will have nothing to do with healing him."

Aranee's mouth dropped open in surprise. No one had ever told a healer that she was not able to heal the wounded. She was the best healer around, save Ninia, who was at present taking an extended vacation after the wartimes. True he was a king and the king's healing powers were supposed to very prevail above all others, but still. She had been the healer of Gondor for most of her life, and now, as soon as the king comes along, she is cast aside.

Until then, she had not noticed those around her, whose mouths were also gaping open. They too were stunned at the king's behavior.

"Aragorn," Aranee said firmly, "Might I remind you that you wished to thank me before on my superior healing skills. You were very sincere when you 'commended me on my extremely talented skills of mending.' Or have you forgotten your words already?"

Aragorn's eyes narrowed on the young woman in front of him. He was about to give her a piece of his mind when Arwen placed her hand on his arm. In elven she said, "Let it go Aragorn. She is wise. Let her heal Legolas."

He replied, also in elven, "Very well, my love." He then turned back to Aranee and bowed his head in acknowledgement, though looking somewhat distressed at the idea, "Very well my lady, you may heal him, but I will always be by his side."

"If you wish it," Aranee replied. She then nodded her thanks to Arwen for getting Aragorn to concede to let her heal Legolas.

* * *

It hadn't taken long for Aranee to heal Legolas' legs. There was only one that needed to be splinted so that the healing would be allowed to take. With the splint on Legolas felt rather useless. He could still walk, but he needed a walking stick and someone at his side at all times. Aragorn had stubbornly taken that responsibility. But Legolas, who was just as stubborn as Aragorn, had insisted to his friend that he needed to set to work once more. He said that it wouldn't do any good for the king to be sitting on his ass as the city went up around him.

Aranee had taken to hiding in various places, a thing she'd done when she was younger, and only Faramir knew how to find her. She avoided Aragorn, coming to visit Legolas only when she knew Aragorn was at dinner, in his chambers or otherwise occupied. He had bothered her beyond recognition and another outburst was something that Aranee had no wish to provoke.

About a week after healing the elf, Aranee went to see him. She had always liked elves, no matter how the Lord Denethor despised them and made his people fear their kind. It was a fascination she couldn't help.

She knocked on the strong wooden door and heard a voice from within. She inched the door open to see Legolas sitting at the window seat, looking out over the city. He looked back at her and had a surprised look on his face. "Oh," he said, "I thought you were Aragorn."

Aranee winced at the name but then shoved the thought aside. She didn't think very much of the king right now for all his fussiness. "No, I'm not. Are you disappointed?"

"Not in the least," he replied, smiling at her. "I am quite pleased to see that it is you, and not Aragorn. He is getting to be quite bothersome." She knew the feeling.

Aranee went over to him and looked at the splint he had rested in front of him and the walking stick beside his shoulder. "Are you in pain?" she asked, referring to his left leg.

"Not anymore," he said, looking up into her soft eyes. "Your hands work wonders. How is it that you came to be a healer?"

Aranee smiled. "Faramir broke his collar bone one day when we were young. We had gone up the mountain and he slipped on a loose rock and fell to a ledge. I climbed down carefully and I couldn't leave him by himself there. I just did what I learned from Ninia, the old healer here, and pushed the collar gently till I heard a small snap back into place. By then Faramir had passed out so he couldn't feel anything. Lucky too, for he would have found it truly painful had he been awake. Ever since then I've wanted to be a healer, and trained hard to get where I am today."

Legolas nodded in understanding, "Tis an honorable profession Aranee. Truly admirable for those many lives you have saved."

Thinking of the many times when she'd lost the battle with a life, she shrugged, "And a great many lives that I have lost. I do what I can with the agents of healing that I am given."

"You're too modest, my lady."

"Not in the slightest," Aranee smiled. "I've given to speaking the truth and no lies. Not but one."

"One?" Legolas asked, his brow quizzical.

"One secret I suppose. It's not that I haven't told the truth, it's that no one's really asked, and I do not feel the need to tell them." She didn't know why she was telling this to Legolas. She knew it would only increase suspicion on his part. She might even confess and then where would she be? He would be forced to keep a secret from his best friend, should she so wish it.

"I do not understand," Legolas said finally, "but I can tell you do not want to tell me. There is something in your eyes that makes me believe it is something for you to tell and not for me to know, correct?"

She nodded slightly before turning her attention to his left leg. "Does it hurt when I do this?" she asked as she prodded and massaged his bare kneecap.

He shook his head, "No, I can't feel a thing."

She frowned, "Oh, that's weird."

He shrugged, "Not really. I put some of the leftover herbs on it this morning before you came so that I wouldn't be able to feel it. It's healing but the pain is still there."

"Oh, okay then," she said, her hands retreating. "It should be better in about seven days time, and I'll bring more of the _cacao_ for the kneecap. It must have been what took the brunt of the break. Don't worry about it however. You'll be back to your old self soon enough."

"I'm glad to hear that," Legolas returned. "Perhaps Aragorn will stop nagging me like an old woman then, when I'm useful once again."

"I agree, quite frankly. He's being most uncharacteristic, especially for a new king. He has much more to occupy his time than Lord Denethor ever had, that is for sure, and yet he seems fit to sit by you day in and day out as if he'll see you heal immediately. He is strange."

"You talk about him as if you know him well. 'Uncharacteristic' is a term used mostly when you know the person's character well. How is it that you can use it so candidly?"

Aranee shrugged off the notion. Legolas was right, however she wasn't about to admit it. "I've just seen my fair share of royalty, that is all."

Legolas nodded, "Very well, keep your secrets." He winked at her.

She chuckled, "I'm going to go mix up some more _cacao_ now. Stay put, don't move and I'll be back later for another dosage."

He didn't reply to her command, but instead turned his head out the window to look down at the White City. It sparkled in the noonday sun, sending a blinding light high into the air above the mountain. He smiled at the small glorious pleasure he was receiving.

Aranee noticed his placid face when looking out over the city and said, "You miss your home, don't you?"

He did not turn to look at her but simply nodded his head, "Yes."

Aranee knew that the elf no longer needed her assistance, therefore left him in peace to dwell in his own thoughts. She left, shutting the door behind her before coming face to face with Éomer.


	3. Miracles Can Happen

**Chapter Three: Miracles Can Happen**

Éomer's face was hard, underlined with concern. Aranee frowned at his concrete face and just as she was about to open her mouth to ask what was wrong, Éomer held up his hand and turned around. He walked away with a swift, fast pace and Aranee watched him go down the hall and around the corner. She couldn't understand what was wrong with him? Had she done something to offend him?

Not being able to come to terms with his strange behavior, she turned the opposite direction from whence he disappeared and glided along the side of the walls. She had been getting a feeling of regret from Éomer. There was no specific evidence that she could justify, but he had been acting strangely for the last week. In fact, he had been like this since Legolas had been injured. Twisting the sash of her medicine bag she remembered that she had told Legolas that she'd mix up the _cacao_ roots for his knee. Setting forward to the task she quickly forgot about Éomer as she walked down the halls of the White Palace.

* * *

Faramir stood at the ridge on Pelennor Fields, looking out over the expanse, no longer drenched with blood, but trying to regain its beauty from days long before the war. He knelt down and touched the delicate grasses just beginning to sprout after fires had reined along the field. He looked towards Osgiliath and his hand went instinctively towards his shoulder wound where the arrows had struck him. He turned towards the White Tower and noticed a figure striding confidently away from the main gates. He smiled in recognition of his childhood friend.

Returning to his full posture, he held up his hand in a greeting. Though Aranee was still a long ways off, he knew that she would see him. She did and made her way over to where he stood.

"My lord," Aranee greeted, curtseying briefly before breaking into a wide smile.

"My lady," Faramir returned, bowing graciously. "What brings you out here at this hour?" It was a few hours before dusk and Aranee rarely went outside the castle after noon.

"_Cacao_ root," she replied. "For Legolas."

"Ah," Faramir said, nodding in understanding. "And how is the elf? Healing?"

Aranee nodded, "As well as can be expected. Though Elfish have a superior race to our own, at least in my own eyes, they heal at about the same pace as we do. I was quite surprised when I noticed that his leg was not healing up almost as soon as it was broken. It would seem even after thousands of years his white blood cells are only resistant to disease and not super-strong."

"He fascinates you, doesn't he?" Faramir observed. He took her hand gently and led her to where the _cacao_ roots grew.

She took the gesture of friendship and nodded once again, "Yes. Haven't they always?"

"True," he replied, chuckling softly, "But I always thought it was a childish fantasy of yours just because it was like nothing you had ever known. I suppose it's more than that. You belong to this world Aranee."

"What kind of statement is that? Of course I belong here. It's my home."

"In this world of elves, dwarves, goblins and mythical creatures of old. You flow with them unlike the rest of us, who just plod alongside them, trying to change the world they have known for Three Ages."

"The world is changing I guess," Aranee said. "Everything is changing. The elves are leaving here. I will be disappointed to see their magnificent homes, places of sanctuary where only elves roam, emptied, and perhaps the rages of man wash through them like a flood. And even the mines of the dwarves and realms of goblins and the darkest depths of mythology, they are all fading into history."

She looked sad, her eyes drooping and her hands lying limply at her sides. Faramir, still holding her one hand squeezed it gently and she looked up into his smiling face. "My lady, do not be sad. All things change. Look at how you've changed."

She laughed briefly. "And you? Have you changed as much as I?"

"Of course. I used to be knee high to a grasshopper right along with you. It seems like so long ago, especially after this war. It all happened so fast too. The conscience of Sauron grew within only a year. Those of us in Minis Tirith didn't even know it either until the very end because the Ring was so far away."

Aranee shook her head, "Yes. Can we talk of something else though, please? I am tired of war, death and change. I want something good to come now. Something new."

"Such as?"

"Oh I dunno. Love maybe."

"Love? Love of whom, may I ask?" Faramir looked at Aranee, noticing the small smile turning the corners of her lips.

"How could I know?" she said, not able to prevent herself from smiling.

Faramir laughed and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her head towards him. "You can't fool me," he said, putting her into a gentle headlock. "Tell me. Give me a name."

"Get off me," Aranee laughed, trying to pull herself free from his restraint. "I'm not going to tell you, never." She pulled herself free and took off at a run towards the stream.

Faramir continued to laugh and ran to catch up with her. She stopped at the stream, turning towards him, hands up in front of her to prevent any assault he might try to finagle. "I'm not going to hurt you, Aranee," he said smoothly.

"How do I know? You might just try to tickle me, restrain me in some manner, push me into the stream…" she was out of ideas, she knew he wouldn't physically hurt her.

"You're the one who ran towards the stream in the first place," he pointed out. He moved like a hawk, taking her hands and twisting her around so she faced away from him. His arms wrapped around her, holding her own arms to her chest, unable to fight back now that she'd been truly detained. "Now tell me this gentleman you love."

With her hair fallen in her face and her arms trapped she felt rather helpless. "If you let me go will you tell me?" she asked.

"If I let you go, _will_ you tell me?" Faramir returned, doubting her sincerity. She had always been full of these kinds of tricks, even if she was a grown woman now, he didn't doubt she'd try and evade him one way or another.

"Maybe," she said quietly. She then began to struggle once more, pushing and pulling at his arms and body. She threw him from side to side and yet he didn't yield. She was sure-fire stuck. "Let go of me, please," she pleaded, clearly exhausted.

His arms released her immediately and she fell forward onto the hard ground. She turned over onto her back, looking up at Faramir, who was still standing, hands at his sides. "Thanks," she said, exasperatedly. She then smiled, "Help me up!"

He reached down for her hand and Aranee took the opportunity to pull him down onto the ground beside her. He was good on his feet, but once unbalanced, he was useless. She started to laugh, clutching her stomach and Faramir couldn't help but laugh as well. "You are a trickster, aren't you?" he said after the laughter subsided.

"Not so much anymore," she replied, sitting up beside him. "I've outgrown most of my tricks. I'm just too big for them now," she looked back at him, still lying on his back, hands brought around propping his head up. She laughed again as she softly chuckled.

"So…are you going to tell me?" he asked again, refusing to give up on his quarry. He would find out, he was determined.

"I don't know," she said, honesty brimming out of her very soul. "I have eyes and ears for lots of things and yet when love comes along I'm the most foolish of individuals. Can you really tell if you're in love when it happens?"

He looked up into the fading blue sky. "I don't think so," he replied. "It's a hard thing to know for sure. I don't even know if I love Éowyn yet. It's such a tricky thing to understand. Orcs, Uhri-khai and combat is so much easier than love. For you, healing and herbs come naturally and yet love is beyond even the simplest comprehension."

"You don't know if you love Éowyn?" Aranee questioned, having caught his little confession.

"Yes, well…I certainly do care for her. I feel very protective of her, but then again so does her brother. Have you noticed his abrupt aloofness lately? He's acting very strange."

"Yes!" Aranee said a little too enthusiastically. "I have noticed it. He was outside Legolas's room this afternoon when I was tending to him. I came out and Éomer just scowled at me. It looked as though he were ill. I tried to ask him what was wrong but he just put his hand up and walked away."

"Hmm," Faramir said thoughtfully. "Perhaps…"

"Perhaps what?" Aranee wondered when Faramir didn't finish his thought. "What?"

Faramir smiled at her intuitiveness. "Well, it's just an idea, of course, but perhaps he's jealous."

Her eyes looked startled. She wasn't thinking it was that. Her thoughts were more medicinal than emotional. "Jealous? Of…?"

"Legolas."

"Why would he be jealous of Legolas?"

"Because of all the time you are spending with him. Éomer might think that your spending time with Legolas lessens the time you spend him, therefore he is jealous because he fancies you."

Aranee's chin dropped, her mouth hanging open in surprise. Faramir laughed out loud before sitting up, bringing himself to her level. "Don't tell me you didn't think of that?"

"I…I…of course I didn't think of it. It completely eluded me." Her face dropped. "Damnit!"

"Language," Faramir pointed out calmly. "My lady should never swear."

Aranee raised her eyebrow at him, obviously not amused.

Faramir smiled gently before saying, "It would seem you have more troubles than I had originally thought."

Aranee groaned. "I thought that things were over, peace was coming to my poor head and heart. But no of course it wouldn't be that easy. Aragorn king, Legolas injured, Éomer jealous, Éowyn confused, you love stricken, and I am caught in the middle it would seem. I thought that the battles were over; things were going to settle down. Now I see that things have only just begun."

Faramir nodded in agreement. She looked away over the fields towards Osgiliath and then to towards the stream they were lying beside. Pulling her medicine bag around to her front and retrieved a knife. She got up slowly, pushing her hair away from her face. She went over to the side of the water and flipped the knife from its encasement and bent towards the weeds. After cutting a dozen or so long strands of the weed, she safely stowed them in her bag and turned back to Faramir. After shrugging her shoulders once she attempted a small smile.

"Don't worry about it," Faramir said before getting to his feet. "It'll all work out in the end, you'll see." He extended his hand towards her.

She took his hand and they began to walk towards the main gates of Minis Tirith. "How can you be sure?" she asked. "I mean you seem so lost about Éowyn and yet you have that confidence that everything will work out fine."

"Because, my lady," he said, smiling, "the war ended, didn't it?"

* * *

Aragorn sat in his own private chambers, head in his hands, looking out over the great expanse of fields below him. The front of his chambers looked out over the entire city and fields, to the outskirts of Osgiliath and the mountains that surrounded Mordor. Mordor was no longer a threat however since Frodo, dear Frodo Baggins, had thrown the One Ring into the fires of Mount Doom.

His eyes were glazed over, as if in a trance, glancing at the fields and city below him. He was thinking. He had never really known his father, whoever he was. He knew him only by name and reputation, but never as a man. And his mother was beyond all comprehension. He had accepted in the past that he would never know his past, therefore he had fled it, escaped what little he knew. Isildur's heir; that was what the people labeled him as. And Aragorn had always feared that fate. He assumed that, like Isildur before him, his fate, too, would be tied to the Ring, betrayed at the end for its own purposes and gains. He had never known peace, except when with the elves.

Legolas was his dearest friend. They had known each other since boyhood, dancing across the rivers of Mirkwood, climbing the trees of Lothlorien and masquerading as warriors in Rivendell. And in each of those places he had found comfort, solace with the elven people and his elven friend.

But this place, he thought, finally coming out of his trance, this place was something new and different. Though he had been here before, he had also never been here before. It was a contradiction of terms, and they were not terms of his own. Time had told Aragorn that outrunning one's destiny is like trying to hold water in a sieve. Being king of middle earth was something totally unexpected and though the people had faith in him, he felt that he couldn't have faith in himself.

His faith had left him the day he'd discovered his true self. How could he do anything but run and escape when this fate was looming overhead? So he had run and he now saw where it had led him. All his avoidance had just given him a more exact route to his destiny, allowing him to see it all, obliged to take the hard road in the face of those he loved. Like Arwen.

Arwen had given him a strength that he could never have imagined. She was everything to him now, and he wouldn't give her up for the whole of middle-earth. Aragorn turned to look at her, resting gently on a pile of cushions, one hand gently on her belly and the other holding open an ancient elfish tome. Elrond had given it to her before he had returned to Rivendell months before. A small smile crept to Aragorn's face thinking of the other hand, resting instinctively over the tiniest crest that would grow to be his first child. No one knew yet and Arwen wanted to keep it that way until everything was safe.

Arwen felt his eyes upon her moments afterwards and her eyes locked with those of her husband. "What is it?" she asked in her own language, rolling smoothly off her tongue.

"Just thinking," he replied.

She smiled, setting the book aside before rising to her feet and gliding across the room towards him. "You have been set to thinking, haven't you?" she said lightly, her hands reaching out to take his in her own.

Aragorn returned with a small chuckle, "Too much in fact, love."

"You worry about your kingship and how well you will guide your people." Her eyes did not question his thoughts, but merely pointed out that this was in fact what he'd been thinking. Her soft dark brown hair was pulled over to the left side of her shoulder and when she looked down at him, it swung from side to side.

"You know me well," he replied, turning to look once more over the fields of Pelennor. "It seems a different world, Arwen. How can I relate to a place I fled all those years ago?"

"With the strength I know you have inside you." She knelt down in front of him, reaching to turn his chin towards her. "I can't say don't look to the future, think of only the present love, but I can tell you that there is nothing that hinders my faith in you. You took up the sword, wore the crown, married the princess," she smiled to herself, "and you have come out on top. I have confidence in you."

He leaned forwards and pulled her into a hug. Her own strength was what he needed most of the time. It was what pulled him through each day. He kissed her gently on the lips, keeping her head firmly attached to his for a few moments of pleasure. "I love you Arwen," he whispered.

"I love you," she replied, kissing him on the forehead. "Let's to dinner now shall we?" she suggested.

Aragorn shook his head. "In peace tonight, love. We will eat in here at our own convenience. This much we can ask of my subjects. They won't miss us. I need your comfort tonight." His hand gently grazed her stomach and pulled her back into a hug. Comfort.


	4. The Healing Pool of Bluemede

**Chapter Four: The Healing Pool of **_**Bluemede**_

One the topmost level of Minas Tirith, behind a curtain covering a window, a breeze blowing through the thin film of material, Éomer stood facing the Fields of Pelennor. He had watched the whole time, all afternoon, without interruption, gazing down at the two dots, specks on the grass, where he knew Aranee and Faramir had laughed so gaily. His eyebrows drawn together and his lips tight in a scowl, he drew back from the window as he lost sight of the two behind the walls. They had been so jovially oblivious to those who had been watching from the city, completely unaware that there was something deeper stirring inside the depths of Éomer's conscience.

A knock on the door then interrupted Éomer's deep thought and Éowyn walked in carrying a stack of folded shirts that Éomer had sent to the launders.

"Éowyn, you interrupt me," he grumbled.

Éowyn looked up, surprised. Her brother had never talked like that to her before. "I am sorry Éomer. I hadn't realized…What…What is the matter?"

"Nothing."

"There is, I can see it on your face. You are troubled." She walked over to him where he stood, still at the window, and placed her hand on his forearm. "Tell me."

Éomer shrugged off her hand and stalked to the other side of the room, again surprising Éowyn with his harsh and abrupt movements. "I…don't…know!"

Éowyn took a small step forward. "What don't you know? Please Éomer, you're scaring me."

Éomer turned towards his sister, the frightened look on her face hitting him at his very core. He hadn't realized that what he was doing was affecting her so. He walked over to her slowly, taking her hands in his, forehead to forehead, and he sighed heavily. "Oh my sister, I apologize. I did not mean to startle you."

Éowyn bit her lip slowly and then tried to prod at her brother's thoughts again. "Éomer, sometimes it's better to let it out that keep it locked inside."

Sighing again Éomer let go of his sister and went to sit down on his bed. A melodious laugh carried on the breeze, made its way up the city and into the open window, and felt as though it was piercing Éomer's heart. He shouldn't have been feeling this strongly over a woman he'd just met, and a woman of the castle to make his situation worse. After reconstruction he would be leaving for Rohan and have to leave this place, and this woman with it. She would never consent to coming with him.

Éowyn went over to the window and down the many levels she found the source of the laughter, and the source of Éomer's obvious pain. "Does this have anything to do with Aranee?" she asked hesitantly.

"How could you tell?" Éomer scoffed. "She's just…so…intoxicating."

"How so?"

"She…she fills my every thought, whenever I'm around her I have to harden my disposition or else she will penetrate even further into my head…and heart."

"You feel that much for her?"

"Yes. I don't know how it happened. But now I ache whenever I am around her. And I feel pain whenever she is giving attention to others over myself."

"Legolas? You are jealous of Legolas?"

"Not only of him. Of Faramir as well. He has her ear more assuredly than any other man. She is constantly around him, confiding in him."

"They are childhood friends Éomer. There is nothing else between them save for brotherly and sisterly love. I have seen them. They are aware of each other in a more conjoined way than possible. Faramir has even said so himself. They are like siblings to one another."

"It still takes all my efforts to maintain a straight face, to not act out irrationally and aggressively. Tell me Éowyn, what can I do to prevent this?"

Éowyn went to sit by her brother. As she too felt something for Faramir, it was understandable the emotions of jealousy that her brother was feeling towards Aranee and Faramir's relationship. It was something not of this world to see them together. But she did have complete faith in her brother's affections towards Aranee, and to prevail above his current misery.

"Have you ever tried talking to her? Have you tried getting to know her a bit more? These feelings might dwindle, the feelings of aggression towards others, if you got to know her and more and more she would come to you for advice."

It was good enough advice, much better than anything he could come up with. Growing up in a time of war did nothing for Éomer's knowledge of courtship, or even ladies. The only ladies he had known in any great detail were his sister and a few ladies of Rohan. This was entirely new and strange territory to him. "Perhaps it would be better," he conceded. "The harsh looks do tend to frighten her. Her loveliness does shine through, but I wish her to look at me with a soft face, a smile, rather than a frown."

"Then get to know her brother. Find out what she likes, her interests, her hobbies. These are the things that a man needs to do to win the heart of his woman."

"Ah the secrets of women," Éomer sighed. Looking at his sister he smiled before leaning in to kiss her forehead. "You are right, Éowyn."

"And I have a wise brother to thank for that." Her smile radiated through her whole being. A halo of light hair hung around her face and her pale lips were lifted. "Let's us to dinner, Éomer. We will be late and it is time you made your intentions known I should think."

* * *

After dropping off her satchel, Aranee and Faramir walked still, hand in hand, towards the dining hall. A long, lavish table with plates of food and drinks were laid out for guests as well as places for the King and Queen and palace guests. Currently seated there were three: Éomer, Éowyn and Gimli the dwarf who had long been a guest of the king and found the palace life quite to his liking. He was in a heated discussion over the stone being used to rebuild the city.

"Stone should be brought from underground, from the mines, as the dwarves have done for centuries. This elfish rock will never withstand the tests of time."

"Be wary dwarf. If Legolas were here he would surely argue the point. The Elfish stone was also a gift, much more profitable for the city. It also helps build a long lasting relationship with the elves. The Queen is elfish you realize." Éomer's eyes flashed towards where Aranee and Faramir had just entered. Quickly drawing attention to the joined hands he looked away and Aranee saw his lips tighten.

Faramir must've caught the exchange as well and leaned in to whisper to her, "I am sure it is jealousy now Nee. This is going to be tricky."

"Great," Aranee responded with much exasperation, "Just my luck."

"You have the luck of choice, which is not often available. Choose wisely. Don't let them get hurt by your actions."

"Lovely," she whispered. Faramir's advice was good, but not easy. She smiled gently towards those seated at the table and then took up her place beside Éomer, with Faramir on the other side of Éowyn.

Before she could say anything to Éomer, Gimli asked for her attention asking, "What are your thoughts my lady, on the stone being used to rebuild the city?"

"I'm afraid, Master Dwarf; I do not have any thoughts. The city would benefit from being completed with whatever the king decides. In whatever way as well I would suspect. He is wise enough to make the decisions on his own. His reason of Elfish and not Dwarfish stone is obviously justified. Perhaps he waits for the strength of the dwarfish stone to reinforce the foundations of Minas Tirith and the elfish stone for face beauty."

"A wise observation my lady," Éomer said, having been listening in to the conversation. He then raised his cup to Aranee and drank.

Aranee shook her head, "Not wise my lord Éomer. A practical one. It is from my own study and understanding that though equal in strength, dwarfish stone from underground is made to withstand the most fierce of weight while elfish is as strong, but increasingly beautiful, making the White City the grand capital it is of Middle Earth."

Éomer nodded, saying nothing. Éowyn looked at her brother and then back at Aranee. "Have you spoken to the king of late?" she inquired.

"No," Aranee replied, her eyes dropping from Éomer's gaze. "No, the king does not ask for my company. I understand he is taking dinner in his chambers tonight as well, to peace himself from all this war. Progress is being made, but I understand he is troubled."

Gimli then said, "Destiny is hard to fight, and Aragorn has been fighting it for a long time."

"Yes, I know."

Aranee saw Faramir's knowing glance and with her eyes begged him to change the topic of conversation. Aragorn was the last thing she wanted to discuss at the moment. Her problems just seemed to be piling on top of one another. Aragorn was her brother, her king, a man that she had never thought she'd need to justify herself to in her life. Her brother, she didn't know she had had a brother until the coronation a few months past. Then there were the suitors who were tugging at either side of her, demanding attention. She felt sympathy and intrigue towards Legolas, being of Elvish descent, but Éomer was strong and subtle, a warrior, and a man who was more of a puzzle than an intrigue. She longed to put the pieces together on this intricate man, who seemed to be edging towards friendliness tonight, thought Aranee couldn't tell.

Dinner progressed and she was drawn into more than one conversation with Gimli and Éomer. Éowyn also asked for her attention and Aranee found herself thinking she would no longer dine in the Great Hall. The attention was starting to drain her energy.

When dinner was over she rose from the table and retreated towards the far end of the hall. She heard the footsteps behind her and silently wished it was Faramir and not Éomer, but she was not that lucky. She had the luck of choice, but not when Éomer saw fit to ambush her in her tiring state.

"My lady," his voice was gruff and Aranee felt her insides turn over at the sound. She braced herself against a column briefly before turning to face him.

"My lord," she replied, as custom dictated.

A slow smile spread across Éomer's hard face and the corners of his eyes turned, wrinkles appearing, making him look old and yet childish at the same time. The humor shone through and Aranee smiled brightly at this discovery. This obviously pleased him greatly because a new smile replaced the first, a wide and toothy grin.

"Please, call me Éomer. May I walk you to your door?" he asked.

Aranee nodded her head. "My lord Éomer, you may. But perhaps you would like to take a slight detour?"

"Where?" he asked.

"I want to show you something."

* * *

The streets of Minis Tirith were still littered with stones. The soldiers who remained, who had been commissioned the task of rebuilding the city, Faramir included, had done all they could to restore the White City. But there was only so much that could be done at a time. Éowyn noticed this and admired all the soldiers all the more for their loyalty to the king. Aragorn had brought a new dawn, a new hope. And as she and Faramir walked up and down the gravel paths, the pebbles crunched beneath their shoes, giving off a pleasant crackle, reminding them of where they were.

Though nothing could alter Éowyn's memory of the days past when she had battled on Pelennor Fields, watched her uncle slip away into the next world, and brought down the Witch-king of Angmar, Lord of the Nazgûl, she could just as easily forget all emotions save one. Walking beside Faramir brought her to the present, allowed her a few moments of peace where she wasn't dwelling on the past. She doubted he realized it, but he was one of the few people she could be completely herself around. She had trouble truly being herself even around her brother, Éomer.

She'd taken up his offer for an evening walk with that in mind, knowing that she would be able to relax after a long day of weariness. She'd tucked her arm through his, allowing his hand to rest on hers as they strolled through the lanes and alleyways that made up the White City.

"Why do you sigh, Éowyn?" Faramir's voice caught her.

"I hadn't realized I had done so. Forgive me."

Faramir chuckled softly and Éowyn's breath hitched in her throat, her heart skipping a beat. This was a sound that she had long missed, without even realizing it was missing from her life. "You astound me, my lady," he said softly. "You ask forgiveness for taking a moment to yourself. Are there not moments of privacy where you come from?"

Éowyn smiled, "Moments of privacy are few and far between. I cannot remember being truly alone, at least without company, in the longest time."

"But aloneness, you have had plenty?" he queried.

"You could say that," she returned. "There was a time when I was frightened of the dark, when I couldn't go outside without an attendant. But with war I hardened my outer shell. On the outside I would appear the reserved Lady of Rohan. But on the inside I would be screaming, begging, demanding to be set free, to be free of my fears."

Silence washed over them and Éowyn was tempted to repeat the words she'd spoken, not knowing whether or not her escort had heard her clearly. He stopped then suddenly and stood before her, taking both her hands in his. She looked up into his eyes and saw a warm affection shining from them. When he spoke it was the softest whisper. "I wish to thank you, Éowyn."

"For what, pray tell?" she replied.

"For your sincerity. For opening yourself to me like you did just now. It was very kind of you."

Éowyn dipped her head and bit her lip. "It has nothing to do with kindness Faramir," she said. "But it has every bit to do with the fact that you are a good man. A man I have come to care about and I find myself wanting to confide all things in you. Strange, but it's true."

Faramir's hand brought her chin up and gazed deep into her eyes. His lips drew close to hers and gave her the softest and sweetest kiss she had ever experienced. It was warm and considerate. She kissed him back and felt her heart jump and flutter in her chest.

* * *

As they climbed the narrow stairs Aranee took a deep breath. They were far up, higher than the city, but not yet to the beacon. Éomer climbed behind her on the precarious ledge, curiosity piquing at the edge of his mind, yet he said nothing. He would discover what he wanted to know what they got there. It shouldn't take that long. The sun had long set, yet the torches of the city burned bright below him. The White City stones seemed to glow in the moonlight, illuminating the rocks where they stepped.

They came to a small platform halfway up from the top level of the city and yet still halfway to go before they reached the beacon. Aranee slipped behind a rock cut and disappeared from sight. Before Éomer had a chance to call out to where she had gone a hand reached around the corner, a slender feminine hand that caught his own though there were no eyes to guide it.

His form squeezed between the two rock faces and behind the rock cut and his gaze fell on a wondrous sight. The scene in front of him was so captivating that he felt the air escape his lungs.

A small clearing lay out before him. One hill rolled down to a small pond. The sound of rushing water and a cool breeze filled his ears and he saw a small waterfall at the far side of the clearing as it splashed into the pond. There were a few trees and small shrubbery but no more foliage than that. There were weeds by the waterside and when Éomer saw the water he gasped softly. The water glowed, beyond the reflection of the moon and stars. The water was glowing, an electric blue color emanating from under the water, like a coral reef spread out over the twenty feet of pond.

He finally found his voice and said, "What is this place?"

"It is known as the Healing Pool of _Bluemede_. The color you see under the water is _bluemede. _It's an aquatic plant with extraordinary healing powers. I'm sure it's found elsewhere on Middle Earth, but this is the only area in Gondor."

"What does it heal?" Éomer asked as he walked down to the waterfront and dipped his hand in to pull out the weed. When he closed his hand around it and tugged. Underwater it glowed, and yet when he pulled it out of the water the glowing ceased and what remained looked akin to blue seaweed.

Aranee saw the shocked look on his face and carefully positioning her skirts she bent down beside him. A knife appeared in her hand and she slipped both hands in the water silently. She went to the very root of the plant and made a quick slice before pulling the _bluemede_ from the water, still glowing. She handed it to him. "It heals cuts and scrapes mostly. From time to time it has been known to cure disease, but if it's placed on a cut the wound disappears entirely within seconds.

Taking the knife in her hand she brought it to her left-hand palm and made a long slice before Éomer could object. He made a small gasping noise to tell her to stop, but it was already too late. Blood appeared on her hand. She seemed not to notice as she took the _bluemede_ from him and laid it on the cut.

"You should have let me do that," Éomer interjected when his hands were free.

Her eyes drifted to his and she raised an eyebrow. "I've done it countless times, my lord Éomer. So many that I no longer have any feeling in my left palm."

Éomer looked down at the plant in her hand that had been there for mere seconds and in awe he watched as the blue glow slowly faded and left her holding blue seaweed.

She lifted her hand to him, gesturing for him to lift the _bluemede_ from her palm. He held the underside of her hand with one of his while using the other to lift the plant. He was braced for a blood, a scar, anything but what he saw. There was nothing there; no slice, no wound, no blood, nothing. He looked back up at face and saw her smiling deliriously.

"You didn't believe me, did you?" she said.

"I…I guess not. I apologize."

She retrieved her hand from him and stood gracefully. "No apology necessary Éomer. I wanted you to see a bit of magic. It has probably been a long time since you stopped believing in it. Wartime can do that to a person."

He rose in front of her. "But not you?"

Aranee met his eyes again, her pupils dilated with the blue water reflected in them. She had brought him here with the idea in mind that she could soften the outer shell that he had built up around him. This was the one place she knew he would be truly mystified and perhaps unafraid to show his true colors. But she saw now that it would take a bit more coaxing than that.

"I have always believed in magic, Éomer. I use it; see it even, on a daily basis. The human body is capable of miraculous things. A wound can heal and leave the smallest trace of a scar or the most rugged gash. Humans are susceptible to disease and sickness and our white blood cells have the strength and know-how to fight them off. A woman's womb can create and carry a new life. Our bodies were designed to survive, to withstand so much. Magic has everything and then nothing to do with it. I am a healer who knows that."

Éomer watched the young woman in front of him. She had gone from a glorious water-nymph standing with the waterfall as a backdrop to a passionate and vivacious woman who commanded authority in her voice. Her face had gone from serene to fierce, without being hardened. Her voice spoke with conviction, fervor and a solidity of someone who had seen her fair share of life experiences.

Instinctively his hand reached out to brush her cheek. He let his fingertips linger on the silk-like skin before taking a cautious step forward.

Aranee's heart went into overdrive and saw now that having brought him here, in this seclusion, had been a mistake. She could easily be drawn into the atmosphere and lost herself within it, but she refused. Her entire body shook with fear. She had not wanted this to happen. Not yet. But her limbs locked and she could not move her feet. His face and lips got closer to hers and it took every iota of willpower she had to pull back. She placed her hands on his chest and pushed him back before taking two steps back herself.

It was the last thing Éomer had been expecting. It was suffice to say that he didn't like it either. Didn't one passion coincide with the next? Didn't her passion for her work and for the human body suggest some sort of passion for him because she was sharing it with him in particular? Wasn't this what she had planned when she brought him up there? He stood aback from her, his forehead furrowing into a frown.

"Don't look at me like that," Aranee implored, looking him straight on. "I know what you must think—"

"What do I think then? Do enlighten me," he retorted harsher than he had meant to. His anger was seeping through his reserve and though it wasn't exactly the reaction Aranee had been hoping for, at least it was something. It was an emotion to say the least.

"You're thinking that I brought you here because I fancy you, because I wanted the romantic setting to work some sort of spell over us and we could be lost in it, is that it?" she said, hitting the nail on the head.

"Well, isn't it?" Éomer demanded.

Aranee shook her head, the strands of her hair shuffling from side to side with the movement. "No Éomer. That's not why I brought you here. I never wanted that. I—"

"Say no more," Éomer said dismissively. "I don't want to hear it." He turned and walked away from her and disappeared behind the rock cut and Aranee didn't bother going after him. She knelt down by the waterfront once more and closed her eyes to better hear the sounds of the night. Her mind was clouded. Her thoughts drifted to her friend. She knew that Faramir would know what to do, but she didn't know if she wanted to hear what he had to say.


	5. An Assassin's Blade

**Chapter Five: An Assassin's Blade**

Aranee looked up from the old book she had been sifting through. Sitting on her window seat looking out over Minas Tirith from time to time, she was surprised to find Faramir coming through her door.

"Faramir?" Aranee said immediately, rising from her seat to greet her friend. "What brings you here?" She reached for his hands and kissed him on the cheek gently by way of saying hello.

Faramir's forehead furrowed and his mouth tensed. Aranee could tell now that she wouldn't like the news he bore. "The king requests your presence."

Aranee's hands dropped. She hadn't expected Aragorn to summon her, and as far as she was concerned, she had doubted she would obey when he did eventually call. He had been nothing but a stubborn old mule since Legolas's accident a few weeks back. He had been hovering like a vulture and it annoyed both Aranee and Legolas. The way he babied over the broken leg that Legolas had received from the falling boulder was positively childish. Legolas was almost entirely healed now, up and walking with the slightest limp and without assistance from a cane, as Aranee had suggested. Yet still Aragorn circled overhead as if expecting Legolas to collapse at the faintest bump or jostle of his leg.

Now this abrupt summons could mean only two things. The first was the more likely; that Aragorn had taken enough of Aranee's behavior and was taking matters into his own hands. Or that he had finally come to his senses and was going to apologize. The thought almost made Aranee laugh.

Still she asked her friend, "Why?"

Faramir reached out once more and took her hand, as if trying to be of some comfort to her. His touch did little to ease her anger and frustration. "He did not say, 'Nee. I do not think it would be wise however to disobey this request. He did not demand, which is a step up." His meek smile shone through his grim words. His father, Denethor, son of Ecthelion, had been a harsh Steward while Gondor had no king, and he had demanded that Aranee be brought to him more than once. It was for this very reason that Aranee had chosen to move to her 'nest' above the city. It took more time for Faramir to come up to her and it gave her more time to compose herself as she walked the tunnel to Denethor.

Aranee turned from Faramir to look out the window that had been carved into the stone cavern where she lived. She had white-washed the walls of the interior and put curtains on the windows to give it a homey feel. She had a fireplace and a large warm bed heaped with pillows. A large oak dresser stood to one side of her bed and Aranee glanced toward it. In the top drawer she kept her mother's diary, which she'd read every night since Aragorn had been coronated, and she had learned much of her brother's childhood. Their mother had kept a day-to-day report of the goings-on in both her son's and daughter's lives. Gilraen had been a good-hearted woman who was taken before her time, just as her husband, Arathorn had been snatched from her life by an unexpected Orc attack.

"Nee?" Faramir's voice seeped into her thoughts and she turned back to him.

Sighing, she replied, "Very well. I shall come."

"I shall escort you, my lady," Faramir said graciously, offering his arm to her. She picked up her satchel, which she never left without, and took his arm. They then began the long trek down to Faramir's room and then inevitably to where Aragorn had requested Aranee meet him.

* * *

He had been sitting in the great library, reading over his thoughts and not the tome in front of him. He had picked it up idly, not really looking at the title, or the words inside the two leather covers. His thoughts told him that he should remain calm when he saw her. That she was only doing what she believed was best. He envied her commanding authority and how he could only hope to mimic that authority.

Aranee puzzled Aragorn more than he could comprehend. There was something about her that struck to the very heart of him and it boggled the mind. She was too familiar for comfort and yet he was acutely aware of the fact that he had never met her before that day that crown had been placed upon his brow. She was a fire that matched his fire. She was the only person that dared stand up to him, save for the friends who had made this journey with him. Legolas and Gimli would tell Aragorn when he was being arrogant, and he let that slide because they had shared too much to ignore their judgment.

But Aranee, she was the first that was not of the Fellowship that had told him he was out of bounds. The Healers of Gondor and Arnor were acclaimed in their art and despite the fact his hands were gifted as theirs were, he yielded to Aranee for reasons he was only now beginning to understand. Legolas was a friend, and he would have healed his friend if it had meant his life in return, but knowing that the weight of the free world now rested on his shoulders he found himself needing to stay at a distance from that nostalgia. The wound Legolas had received was far from fatal, but Aragorn thought ahead to a time when it could have been. Would he have had the strength to heal his friend, knowing he would be hasty and his judgment impaired? Would he, on a battlefield, be able to stop and assist a friend when others who lived needed their leader?

Aragorn didn't know the answers to those questions, but he was sure to discover them in time. He had asked Aranee to meet him there, to apologize for one, and for another, to set the grounds for perhaps a future friendship that he wanted with all his subjects. He didn't want to simply be a king to his people. He wanted to be a friend, a man who could be approached with any problem. He didn't want to maintain the aloof kingship that Denethor had implied for the years he had sat as Steward of Gondor. Aranee was another step towards that goal.

A knock on the door had him on his feet in an instant. She walked in, head held high, prepared for offense or defense. He didn't want to have these confrontations between them continue, making this meeting all the more important.

She curtseyed at the door and he beckoned her forward. "My lady Aranee," he greeted.

"My lord," she said, her head bowing momentarily before bracing once again, staring him down, as if daring him to step out of line again. She was definitely recognizable, but he couldn't place her with any memory he possessed. It was more like her face was something he'd seen in a previous life. It didn't make any sense to him, but he planned on putting his mind to the task of remembering.

"You requested my presence?" Aranee said pointedly, as if his request had irritated her. Aragorn had heard that she was proud, and the confrontation with her when Legolas had been injured proved as much, but she was defending her honour as a healer then, and this was a different time. He merely asked if she would come to him, it wasn't as if he had demanded her company in an instant. She must have still been harbouring some ill feelings towards him, which made this conversation that much more important. He planned on earning the loyalty and respect, and friendship, of every one of his subjects, even those that resisted him.

"I did," he replied, setting down the tome he hadn't really been reading. "I thought that it was high time this pretense between us ended."

He heard her intake of breath, as if she was hiding a gasp. He couldn't fathom why what he'd just said would upset her so. "Pretense, my lord?" she whispered, her voice shaking.

"Yes," he continued hesitantly, "I have decided that it has time we come clean with one another. I admit it hasn't been easy, knowing that you are the only one in this city who despises me so."

A confused look crossed her face and then she reverted back to a defensive expression, as if her shield had dropped momentarily and she'd regained her balance and picked it back up again. "You seem to have been misinformed, my lord Aragorn, I do not despise you."

"And yet you find me reproachable?"

A frown appeared on her forehead and her mouth opened slightly, decidedly going to retaliate, but she changed her mind. Instead she dropped her gaze from him again and cleared her throat. "Not reproachable, sire."

"Unworthy?" Aragorn ventured a guess.

"No," she replied slightly, "Not unworthy, but perhaps unknown."

"As I have tried to be most of my life," he said, letting down his guard slightly, allowing her inside his tough outer-shell that every man and king should possess. Formality only went so far however, and he knew that to be worthy of her, he would have to give up something of himself. "I never wanted this, my lady. But destiny is a hard thing to hide from."

He watched her face slide from the frown to recognition and he could tell he had gotten inside her carefully structured wall. "Yes, I suppose it is," was all she said.

"My lady Aranee," he continued, "I will always be unknown to you if you do not attempt to know me. I've always found that to get to know someone you have to give something of yourself in return."

A small smile tilted her lips and she met his gaze unhindered and sincere, "I find the same thing, my lord."

"Then perhaps we should make a start, here and now. I called you here to apologize to you for my brute nature when Legolas was injured. I am used to being protective and in my lineage the talent of healing is rather strong." He held up his hands palms up in defense of his nature as well as in surrender with his apology.

Her lips thinned slightly before she recollected and said, "Apology accepted, sire. But realize that I am very good at what I do. Healing to me is as second nature as being protective is to you."

Aragorn nodded his head, "Good, now will you please do me a huge favor? Stop calling me 'lord' and 'sire'. Aragorn will do."

It was her turn to nod, "Formality comes naturally to me and I almost do not note when I use it, but I will try…Aragorn."

"Splendid. Now I would like to sit and assure you that I am harmless and not unknown." He gestured for her to sit on a bench just beside them.

"Likewise," Aranee replied, her eyes alight with a new fire he'd never seen before. She sat gracefully on the bench and he moved to sit beside her.

"Tell me, Aranee," he said smoothly, "are your parents living?"

Her eyes widened in shock, as if she hadn't been expecting that question. She hesitated, "I…" before she jumped up and pointed behind Aragorn. "Look out behind you!" she cried.

* * *

Her first instinct was to flee when the question rose, but there was something in Aragorn's eyes that pleaded her to stay and so she tried to come up with a suitable response without actually lying about her lineage. But when her mouth opened she could only stutter and that's when she saw _him_.

His blade had glinted in the shadows from the small streams of light that were cascading in from the windows. His head and face was covered with a black cloth while his clothes were all shades of dark so he could easily hide in shadow. The sash across his chest bore several other knives like the one he was holding, but Aranee knew that there was a reason he'd drawn this one and not any of the others. She'd yelled out just in time and Aragorn swung around just as the blade came slicing down where he'd just been seated.

Quickly the assassin recalculated and swung again, Aragorn dodged. Aranee could do nothing but stand there and watch the fight. Her feet felt like stone and her heart had dropped to her knees with fear. With another swooping lunge from the assassin her stomach did a back flip but once again Aragorn dodged. He was unarmed, harmless, as he'd said to her just moments ago. He picked up a book and heaved it at the assassin's head. The assassin ducked and Aragorn took the moment to bring up his leg and hoof the man in the face. But the assassin's blade was too close and with the slice of a sharp blade it came down on Aragorn's calf.

Aragorn howled and hobbled back a few steps. The assassin took that as a sign of success and Aranee knew this was the time to do something, if anything. She picked up the book beside her and threw it at the man in black with all her might. Used to lifting the dead weight of sleeping or unconscious men she knew what strength she had, and so that left it to her aim to succeed. Thankfully luck was on her side today and it struck her target, catching the man in the head. He stumbled back but recovered quickly.

Aragorn was still watching, clutching his leg in pain. He grimaced and Aranee knew then why this particular curved dagger had been chosen and not a heavier or more precise weapon; it was a poisoned blade. The assassin ignored Aranee and went after Aragorn once more. Aragorn dropped his leg and caught the man's blade hand and free hand just before the dagger came down on his heart. The struggle lasted a few seconds with most of the shuffling coming from the assassin as Aragorn refused to move due to his injured leg. Aranee frantically looked around for another book.

When she found another one that she could maneuver easily, she took the chance at shot it through the air towards the assassin. It caught him in the back of the head and even though Aragorn had his blade hand in a vice grip, the blade sliced down the side of Aragorn chest, cutting cotton and skin just beside the collarbone.

The assassin fell losing his blade on the floor beside him. Aranee forced her legs to work and she jumped forward, kicking the blade away. She knew he had others, but she was of no threat to him. Why should he harm her? Apparently she had misjudged the assassin because he suddenly drew another knife and grabbed the hem of her dress. She screamed then, letting a shrill cry rent the air, hoping that someone would hear. Aragorn was defenseless now because the poisoned blade had caught him elsewhere. He was trying to hold onto his life so she knew she couldn't ask anymore help from him.

The scream brought the muffled sound of running footsteps outside the door and in burst Gimli, battleaxe poised for any threat. Behind him stood Legolas, arrow knocked and aimed at the assassin that his elf eyes had spied immediately.

"Let her go," Legolas yelled. "My aim will not miss, so if you value your life, you'll release her."

The assassin released Aranee's skirt and she retreated to a safe distance immediately. Gimli then strode forward and thumped the hilt of his axe to the back of the assassin's head and he was rendered unconscious instantly, the blade falling from his fingers.

All Aranee wanted to do right then was fall to her knees with the thought that the threat was gone and there were others here to take care of her now. But a weak grunt came from Aragorn who had slide to the floor. He was still sitting and breathing, which was a good sign, but Aranee saw his face had taken on a pale purple discoloration and she sprang into action.

She picked up the dagger that had been poisoned and with a finger she slid it across the broadside, catching the edge barely. But that was all that was needed to retrieve the remnants of the poison on it. She saw the blue poison and she sniffed it briefly. Then she lifted her finger to her mouth and licked it. The disgusting, tangy taste struck her immediately and she spit it out. What little she'd ingested was not enough to harm her save making her tongue go numb for a few hours. What Aragorn had received straight to the bloodstream was enough to kill him however.

She looked back at Legolas who had come to stand beside her. "We need to get him on a flat surface, preferably not the floor." She looked around quickly, spying the bench. "The bench, put him there."

It took mere seconds to get Aragorn on the bench. Aranee respected how both Legolas and Gimli did as she asked and then stood back a distance. She rummaged around in her satchel, pulling out bandages and a salve. It was for this very reason that she always carried her medicine satchel with her, fully stocked for every conceivable situation.

She grabbed the un-poisoned dagger and cut away Aragorn's shirt around the wound. It was deep, but stitches would have to wait. His blood needed to re-circulate with the medicine in his system before she could close it up. Even now the skin around the wound had turned a ghastly green colour.

She mopped up the blood surrounding the wound, knowing that it hurt Aragorn greatly with even the slightest pressure. His eyes were closed, clenched at the pain. He hadn't said anything since they'd last been speaking and she was now afraid that the poison had done more than she previously thought. "Aragorn," she called to him. His eyes fluttered open and he looked up at her. "Aragorn, please, tell me what you feel. It will help me better understand what you need." It was also an excuse to keep him from slipping into unconsciousness.

"I feel…pain…little shards of metal…shooting…through….me."

She took out the salve and began to dab it onto his wound. She mixed it specially so that it wouldn't just cleanse the gash, but it would also numb the area as well. "Just a little more pain," she said, hoping her voice soothed him, "I promise it'll be over soon." Thinking about her voice made her mind click on the one person who might actually be able to keep him calm. She turned to Gimli, "Go and get Lady Arwen." He nodded and left. "Come on, Aragorn, tell me more," she coaxed as she applied copious amounts of the salve on his shoulder.

"My leg…I can't…feel…it," he ground out.

"Damnit," Aranee swore. She only had two hands. Legolas! She turned to him and thrust the salve into his hands. "His leg, quick." Legolas got to work in mere seconds, cutting away the material from Aragorn's leg wound and mimicked Aranee's previous measures by clearing the blood and then dabbing at it. It wasn't as severe as Aragorn's other wound, but it had happened before and the poison would have had more time to kill off all the nerve endings in his leg. He might not lose the leg entirely, but Aranee feared he would lose most of, if not all feeling.

"What happened?" a voice came from the door, and Aranee turned to see Arwen swooping into the room followed closely by Gimli. Arwen rushed to Aragorn's side, taking her hands to cradle his head. His eyes closed on her and from that moment he didn't look anywhere else. Arwen spoke calming words to him in elvish before repeating her question to Aranee. "What happened?"

Aranee swallowed but did not think she could speak. The poison had the potential to kill Aragorn and hopefully she had gotten there before it had time to do any damage that wasn't irreversible, but the thought of him dying was enough to silence her with a great shudder. Her hands shook as she twisted them in her lap.

Thankfully Legolas must have noticed because he handed Aranee back the bandages and salve, having finished applying it to Aragorn's leg wound, and answered Arwen's question, also in elvish. After he had finished Arwen let out what Aranee could only guess was a string of curse words in her language.

Legolas then bent beside Aranee, who'd slid to the floor beside the bench. He placed his hand on her shoulder, his body warmth seeping through the cloth. "I hate to ask you, but will he be alright?"

Aranee cleared her throat and said softly, "He will be numb and I will have to monitor him for a few days…only then will I know for sure. The poison was strong."

Arwen's head popped up. "Poison?"

Aranee nodded, "The blade the assassin was using was dipped in a poison that is made from a _curramon bud._ The seed and flower are not poisonous, but the in between stage, when the flower buds, it becomes lethal. Crushed _curramon buds_ make a poison that is fatal. Even if in a simple scratch it will get into the blood system and go through killing off the nerves until it reaches his heart. His…" she broke off, thinking about what Aragorn had said before about his leg.

"His what?" Arwen urged impatiently.

"His leg wound happened first and the poison might very well have killed off all the nerves. Before he said he couldn't feel it he described it as metal shards that were shooting through him. That was the poison killing off the nerve ends and then purging the system of cells so it wouldn't recover."

Arwen's breath caught in her throat, and her hand came up to her mouth in shock. Aranee also hated to think about it. _Curramon buds_ were deadly and she'd only come up against _curramon bud_ wounds twice in her life. Both wounds had been fatal despite everything Aranee had done to save these people. She hated to think about what might happen if this also happened to Aragorn.

She had to press on however. "I've put the salve on the wound, which will numb the area and also send around a dioxin that will cleanse his system. His heart has slowed however, due to the poison, so it may take up to day for it to cleanse. The blood pumping away from his heart will take longer to circulate because it's at a slower pace."

"But, he can't feel anything anymore?" Arwen asked clearly afraid.

"Ask him," Aranee replied. She hadn't gotten the chance to ask yet so she couldn't say.

Arwen jostled him gently saying his name a few times to get him to open his eyes again. He mustn't have been unconscious though because he answered the question immediately, "I don't feel anything anymore."

Aranee, taking her medical skills into account knew that this could potentially be a bad thing. He could just be referring to the pain being gone, or he could mean that he really couldn't feel anything. She reached out, "Take my hand," she told him. With his hand firmly in hers she noted that his skin was cold and clammy, due to the sweat from fighting both the assassin and the pain having cooled down. She squeezed his hand once and then twice. Looking at him she asked, "Could you feel that? Truthfully." She added truthfully because in present company to avoid panic he could very well have said that he felt it simply because he'd seen her squeeze his hand.

Aragorn smiled painfully, "Truthfully…barely."

Aranee resisted the urge to curse out loud. She used one hand to cover his eyes then and she bent to flick his uninjured leg a few times with her fingernail. She uncovered his eyes, "Did you feel that?"

She sucked in, praying that he would answer as she hoped, but her gut made her doubt. She looked him dead in the eye to ensure he wasn't lying when he replied. "Feel what?" he asked.

"Ahh," she let out her breath and her knees gave way and she finally let herself fall to the ground. She could feel the tears welling up inside her eyelids and she shut them tight, dropping her head. Crumpled on the floor she couldn't help feeling utterly useless. Why hadn't she done something sooner, why had she just stood there when the blade was slicing through the air? It could very well be her fault if Aragorn did die.


	6. A Healer's Struggle

**Chapter Six: A Healer's Struggle**

It took all his effort not to go to Aranee as she crumpled to the floor. But he had to obey his queen first, and his feelings second. Arwen asked him calmly to go and fetch a stretcher and someone to help transport Aragorn to his bed where he'd be more comfortable than on the bench in the library. He walked there and back in a sort of dazed world. The things going on outside his vision were nothing to what he knew Aranee must be feeling. The first word that came to his mind was useless. She would feel useless after she'd rushed Aragorn through the medical procedure and then if the outcome failed her. She was trained to save, to help others survive, but Legolas vaguely wondered who was ever there to help her survive.

They carried Aragorn's now sleeping form to his chamber and Aranee went through the motions of replacing the bandages and giving Arwen instruction on what to do if Aragorn woke in pain. She looked exhausted. The threat of the assassin was much more than she'd had to deal with in a few months. The direct threat made Legolas's skin crawl. If she had been injured what would he have done?

Arwen dismissed the others who had helped and they all went their separate ways. Aranee disappeared through the door and Legolas looked back briefly at his friend, cradled in the arms of the elven princess, and he knew he would be well looked after. So he took up bow and arrow and followed Aranee through the door. She had taken a few steps outside the room and collapsed once again beside the door. Legolas dropped immediately beside her, pain flaring up in his kneecap. Though healed for the most part there was still pain when he attempted rigorous activity.

Aranee must've heard the grimace he'd uttered when the sting caught him and she immediately came to his side, despite her exhaustion and fears. "Are you alright?" she asked suddenly concerned.

Legolas nodded as the twinge subsided and he smiled delicately at her. "That is my question, my lady."

Aranee rose to her feet with much effort then and helped the elf rise. He did not release her hand however when she meant to take it from him. "Are you alright?" Legolas repeated the question.

She blinked once and then twice and Legolas thought he saw a brimming tear being swallowed back into her eyes. He felt her pain and wanted to comfort her. Finally she nodded. "I think I will be okay. But…if he…I…" she couldn't finish.

Legolas did all he could to resist wrapping his arms around her but he couldn't any longer. Cradled in his arms he felt the sobs and shudders rake her body and he did all he could by tucking her into him. "Shhh," he tried to calm her, but this didn't seem to help. She only cried harder. He kissed her forehead as she cried.

Footsteps behind him alerted him to the fact that they were no longer alone. He released her reluctantly and she stumbled back a few steps, keeping a firm grip on his arm. He hadn't meant to let her go, but he figured that she wouldn't want others to see her crying so openly and being comforted by him. He turned to see Gimli and Faramir approaching. They wouldn't have cared about the interactions between himself and Aranee, but it was too late to take her back into his arms.

"Legolas," Faramir said, his voice hardened from the course of events that had occurred today. "We're holding the assassin for questioning. We thought it might be wise for you to join us."

Aranee's grip on his arm suddenly tightened to the point he thought she might crush his radius. He looked at her and saw anger flash through those beautiful green-blue eyes and knew what she was thinking immediately. "I'm coming with you," she said forcefully.

Faramir held up his hand to her and said, "I don't think that's a good idea, 'Nee."

Aranee's resolve pushed through and she straightened her posture. "I don't care what you think Faramir. I am going to speak to this man and no one is going to stop me."

"The lady has brass," Gimli said gruffly, nodding his head in approval towards Aranee.

"You're damn right I have." She responded with such conviction that Legolas knew there was no way any of them could change her mind now that it was made. He could understand Faramir's point of view however in not wanting Aranee to join them. She was strong, but only to a point as he had just discovered and Faramir knew this all too well. He didn't want to risk Aranee being pushed over the edge of exhaustion and anger. She was too unpredictable under that kind of pressure.

Nonetheless, she strode ahead of them to where Faramir and Gimli had dragged the assassin's unconscious body. Climbing the stairs towards the tower room Legolas could see the fatigue seep out of Aranee as one sees a heat wave off of hot stone, but she never let up. She was too proud and too angry to let anyone see her determination was slipping.

Legolas entered the room behind the others to find the assassin had been stripped of his weapons as well as the cloth that had previously masked his face. With the turban gone and his face visible he looked much less menacing that he had wielding the blade at Aranee's ankles in the library. Legolas still felt the pinch of anger shoot through him at the thought of anyone trying to hurt her, at the thought of what this man had actually done to Aragorn.

The proud assassin raised his head as the party entered and Legolas saw a flash of something resembling remorse cross the man's face, but it was all too soon replaced by a smooth placid look that told Legolas that he wasn't remotely sorry for what he'd done. His black hair was pressed on his dark colored forehead, the shadowy patches under his eyes a result of several sleepless nights, and his sharp nose and chin sandwiched his thin lips.

Aranee was the first to speak. "What is your name?" she asked with her voice surprisingly calm for how angered she'd been before.

The man looked at her, giving her the once over before gritting his teeth and replying, "Ramirez."

"Why did you do this to your king?" she asked next.

"He is not _my_ king," Ramirez spit out. "He is a nameless ranger who has no business being on the throne of Gondor and Arnor. He is better off dead."

Legolas could see Aranee's face contort as if she had been physically slapped. She ground out her next words. "He may very well die due to the high concentration of poison on that blade."

Ramirez looked at her dead in the eye. "Then my work will not have been in vain. I will die with a clear conscious knowing I did my duty."

Aranee bent over the man then so swiftly that he jerked back. She grabbed his tunic and hauled him so he was mere inches from her face. The men in the room behind her took a hesitant step forward, a reflex action to make sure the lady stayed safe. Inches from Ramirez's face she let all her anger bleed into her words. "Assassin. You will never see the day if this king dies. And you have my word that in retaliation to these events I will do everything in my power to see that he lives to your execution day and beyond. Mark my words."

She dropped his tunic from her grasp and turned on her heel towards the door. She glanced at Faramir. "His trial?"

"It will be decided when the king has regained consciousness in a few days time." He sounded so confident that Aragorn would survive this and Legolas saw Aranee's lips tilt up slightly. Faramir was doing this for her sake, to reinforce her threat on the assassin.

Legolas watched as Ramirez's head lifted thinking he might have a few more days to live before a trial that could go in his favour, though it was unlikely. Aranee must have seen this also for she turned back to the assassin. "Pray to whatever deity you call your own, assassin. Pray that the king doesn't see fit to execute you without a trial. Pray that if you do by some stroke of luck get off free of the charges that I will never find you. For if I find you in your freedom I will not hesitate. I will strike you down with every ounce of strength in me to ensure you never again see the light of day."

She looked so terrifying, so fearful and so menacing that Legolas finally saw dread pass before the man's eyes. And it stayed there, where before his pride had masked his feelings, now his horror was washing freely over his expression.

Aranee turned and brushed by him out the door and started down the stairs again. Legolas longed to follow her, but instinct got the better of him knowing it was better off she was left alone for now. He glanced at Faramir who had stepped forward to Ramirez. "Be wary," he said to the man, "She is a woman of her word. If she says the king will live, then he will. And if she says she will destroy you with every weapon in her arsenal, then she will." With those words he turned and gestured the others to step outside. Faramir brought up the rear and closed the door, drawing the latch and lock across as if sealing Ramirez's fate with the slam and clink of metal.

* * *

Word travelled quickly through the palace that Aragorn had been injured. There were rumours that he was on the verge of death and other's said that it was just a scratch and he had retreated into his chambers to get over the attack on his life. But somewhere deep down, Éowyn knew the difference. She knew that Aragorn would not be taken down so lightly and that if there were rumours that he was near death, she feared that it might be closer to the truth than everyone believed.

She hadn't rushed to his side immediately and even now she felt little tug or pull to his side. There was nothing she could do. She instinctively knew that Aranee had been with him and pulled him back from whatever precipice he had been teetering over. Éowyn now sat in her room looking out over the city, her hands clasped together in her lap, wondering if she really shouldn't go to Aragorn.

Before she could decide however there was a knock at her door and she rose to see who it was. She was shocked however, when she opened it and saw Aranee nearly fall to the floor before her. Éowyn leapt forward to catch her before she hit the ground and Aranee jerked as if she hadn't noticed herself falling. "Oh, Éowyn," she whispered her weakened state shining through her soft voice.

"Come inside," Éowyn prompted, taking her friend's arm and leading her to the edge of her bed. It was some time before dark so Éowyn knew she wouldn't need the bed and Aranee could rest there.

When she was seated, Aranee clutched Éowyn's arms as if she was going to fall over any second. "Éowyn," she said again.

Taking her friend in her arms she brought her into a hug. "Tell me, please. I cannot stand it any longer to see you in this state."

"Tea," Aranee said. She lifted her satchel lightly as if all strength had left her. She couldn't remove the satchel by herself.

"Of course," Éowyn thought quickly, lifting the satchel from around Aranee's body and shifting through its contents for the tin that said Tea on it. She boiled some water on her small wood stove in the tiny kettle she'd been provided and placing a tea leaf in a cup she poured the scalding water before handing the tea to Aranee. Despite the water being so hot, Aranee took the cup and sipped it gently, swallowing carefully. She continued to do this for several minutes before Éowyn could take it no longer. "Aranee, please tell me."

Aranee set the cup down in her lap, her hands still clasped over the china and she looked up at Éowyn. The suspense was killing her and when Aranee started unfolding the tale of horror before her, she grew more shocked with each passing minute. Aranee reached out to take Éowyn's hand and gripped it hard as she told her everything. She quaked with fear when she came to the very end with the realization she'd come to about how Aragorn might actually die from the poison on the assassin's blade. Éowyn saw the tears leaking out of Aranee's eyes and tears brimmed in her own eyes with fear for Aragorn's life.

Aranee finally let out a whisper that had Éowyn both confused and curious. "I can't lose him," she said.

From what she knew of her friend, Aranee had never really liked Aragorn, and now that she was faced with this death Éowyn couldn't understand why such a sudden emotion had surfaced. "Why does it affect you so?" she asked. She didn't mean to be inconsiderate and Éowyn knew better than most that a threat on your life could rattle you beyond your wits end, but there was something else, something hidden.

Aranee didn't seem to have heard her. She just continued muttering, "I cannot fail. I don't want… to lose…only family…I have left."

"Family?" Éowyn repeated.

"I can't…my brother…die."

"Brother?" Éowyn finally grasped at Aranee's halting murmurs. "Aragorn is your brother." Suddenly she realized why Aranee was so shaken, why the events of today might mean that Aranee was truly and utterly alone in this world.

Aranee seemed to know then what she'd just said and that Éowyn knew the truth. She grabbed Éowyn by the shoulders with whatever strength she had gained from the tea and shook her. "Don't tell him. He doesn't know. No one knows. You cannot tell anyone."

Éowyn nodded slowly, knowing that if this news got out, Aranee's quiet and peaceful existence could very well turn on its ear and she would have a suddenly chaotic and dangerous life. The king's sister would be sought after but suitors and assassins alike. "I promise," she assured Aranee, "I won't tell anyone. I'll take it to my grave."

Aranee seemed satisfied with that answer and she let go of Éowyn's arms. She seemed to want to slink back on the bed and fall fast asleep, but something kept her from doing so. She drank the rest of her tea with an urgency that Éowyn couldn't understand. She handed the cup back to Éowyn and then stood shakily. "I need to find someone."

"Let me go with you," Éowyn begged. "You're weak and need someone to make sure you don't fall down."

Aranee smiled meekly, her eyes sparkling. "I'll be fine," she said, her voice suddenly very sure, all shakes lost. "The tea replenished my system and it will be enough to hold me until I go to sleep this evening."

"Are you sure?" Éowyn asked, hesitant to let her friend who'd nearly collapsed in front of her earlier go out and wander the city unattended.

"I'm positive."

"Very well. I do not like it, but I suppose there is no stopping you once your mind is made up," Éowyn conceded.

Aranee nodded slowly, "You would be right." She embraced Éowyn briefly saying, "Thank you for being such a good listener. It was good to get a few things off my chest."

Éowyn smiled back, "Anytime."

Aranee replaced her satchel around her shoulders and she waved a solemn goodbye to Éowyn before leaving. Éowyn turned and replaced the cup in her hands on the woodstove and went to the window. She looked down and saw Aranee exit the castle and start out on the stone road into the heart of the city.

* * *

Hurrying down the streets of Minas Tirith was the last thing that Aranee wanted to be doing right now. She wanted to be in her nest, curled up in her bed and forgetting the problems that had surfaced. But she couldn't. She wasn't a quitter; her willpower wasn't as weak as her body was. She knew who she needed to talk to and she needed to do it now while there was still time left in the day.

Coming to the end of the road she turned right and then right again leading into a small courtyard that belonged to The Healers of Gondor and Arnor, the Houses of Healing. This was where she used to live. She knew it very well, but she had since moved to her nest by the beacon and hadn't been compelled to work with the other healers in some time. She needed the White Witch now however because despite medicine being her primary study, Aranee knew that medicine along would not save Aragorn.

She knocked on the door. A Junior Healer that Aranee didn't know came to the door. Holding her right hand over her heart she bowed slowly to the girl in the signature greeting of a Healer. The girl recognized this but did not step aside. Aranee was an outsider now and as much as it pained her to admit it, she wouldn't stop now. "Where is the White Witch?" she asked.

"She is in the Herb Room. Shall I bring her to you?" The girl was hesitant to let Aranee inside. It was very rare that an outsider, even a member of the royal family, was allowed to go inside the Healing House. It just wasn't accepted. You were either a special member of their inner sanctum or you were not welcome. Even those who came to the door seeking herbal remedies or bearing wounded soldiers were all treated in the small courtyard and not inside the House itself.

Aranee knew all of this and she was far more impatient than she had been a few seconds before. Now this Junior Healer was getting on her last nerve by delaying her further. "No," she said quite forcefully, "I am going inside, as I have done several times before, to visit the White Witch." Without another word she brushed past the girl and started weaving through the halls, passing familiar rooms and people towards the Herb Room. Aranee had an Herb Chest because at her nest she did not have the space for an entire room, but nor did she need as many herbs to support anyone but herself. The Herb Room was the largest room in the Healing House that contained every kind of herb imaginable. Aranee had every herb needed as well, but this room had each one in abundance for the number of healers living in the House that grew each year.

She came to the Herb Room door, which was clearly distinguishable due to the ancient carvings on the door that were medicinal and protective symbols, as well as the braid of twisted herbs that was strung above the door. Aranee placed her hand on the door, a rush of familiarity went through her like a tidal wave and she could feel the power of the room beneath her palm. This room held so many memories. It was sad that she had left to pursue a solitary life, but it had been her choice. She assumed Ninia would allow her to join the House once again should she ask, but Aranee had little desire to do so, despite the sadness that overcame her when reentering her former home.

She tucked the memories back down to the bottom of her stomach and pushed the door open to reveal yet another memory. There were tables scattered around the edges of the room with pots and pans in neat piles. There were dried herbs hanging from the ceiling giving off a calm and soothing scent. The tables in the center of the room were covered with potted plants, each of which that Aranee could tell apart as well as name their medicinal properties. The center of the ceiling was also cut out to let in sun and rain to help the plants grow. The small grooves in the floor allowed the runoff water to flow out to the front courtyard and into the well.

There were several fires burning in the Herb Room with the sounds of a mortar and pestle grinding and the small DRIP, DRIP of water could also be heard. Aranee saw several Junior and Senior Healers' heads pop up when she entered their private sanctuary, but she gave them little notice. She was looking for her mentor and she would not be stopped by anyone.

Ninia was at the back of the large room beside a large mortar and pestle as well as a roaring fire. Every once in a while she would reach into the mortar and pull out a root and toss it in the fire causing a sizzling noise to rent through the fragrant and steamy air. Aranee approached quietly, curiosity getting the better of her. She had always been fascinated by the way Ninia worked medicine and magic together like a vibrant patchwork quilt.

"I can feel ye behind me, lass," a soft and warm voice said. Apparently Aranee's sneaking around hadn't improved any from her younger years as a Junior Healer and the White Witch's apprentice. Ninia was still the same in her eyes, but she knew the years were passing. It didn't have to touch her already wrinkled skin for Aranee to know that the years still touched the soul of this woman. As apprentice she would have taken up Ninia's robes. As an outcast, she could only hope to remain in the city's favour after Ninia had passed. "Come along, ye silly girl. What has brought ye here?"

She rushed forward to stand beside Ninia. Dusting off her hands, the White Witch finally looked at her with those all-seeing and all-knowing ice-blue eyes. "What has happened?" her voice was suddenly more wary after seeing Aranee.

Aranee knew she didn't look her best and so the fatigue of the hours past must show on her face. Ninia was far too old and far too wise to miss it. "Oh Ninia, I need your help. The king, he will surely die if we do not do something soon."

Ninia's eyes widened and she grabbed Aranee's hand, yanking her through a door just to their left that led to a private chamber where the Healers convened for special occasions. "Tell me everything, child," Ninia said, sitting down on a settee, bringing Aranee down beside her.

Aranee had attempted to compose herself on the trip down, and she had already spilled all the tears she believed were in her with both Legolas and Éowyn, but she hadn't anticipated the strong emotions that were still very near the surface when she began telling Ninia what had happened. The tears flowed quite well for having pushed them to the back of her mind, and the sobs once again shook her.

When she had finished telling everything she could recall to her mentor, the White Witch looked calm and contemplative. When she finally said something Aranee was struck once again by the philosophical fluency that the White Witch possessed. "Aragorn has the blood of the Healers of Gondor and Arnor. He will put up a mighty struggle against this poison. But still a little help will ensure his safety. The struggle alone might kill him and we cannot have that. He might beat the poison itself, but the fight will leave his body drained and worn out that no amount of food and water and medicine can recover. I would suggest a few Senior Healers to join us, but I am confident that we two will be able to accomplish what needs to be done."

"What do we need to do Ninia?" Aranee couldn't help from asking. She was too anxious knowing that she might save her Aragorn.

Ninia looked at her again with a cool piercing gaze and Aranee felt the stare go right through her. "We need a bit of magic to save yer brother."


	7. Souls and Secrets

**Chapter Seven: Souls and Secrets**

"What can they possibly be doing in there that is taking so long?" Gimli growled, sitting beside Éomer and his sister, Éowyn. They had been sitting outside Aragorn's room for the past three or more hours. Each had come of their own accord to see what was going on with Aragorn's health, and each of them had been barred from the room by a snappy old woman.

The glimpse that Éomer had gotten inside the door however, was that of Aranee kneeling at the beside of Aragorn, with Arwen opposite her, and the White Witch at the foot of the bed wafting smoke and murmuring low incantations.

Éomer had come looking for Aranee. He had been avoiding her since the pool where she'd taken him and given him that simple glimpse into her world. Then she'd pulled back abruptly and it baffled his mind. Was that not what she'd brought him up there for? He'd been asking himself the same question for the past few days, and he had come in search of her to clarify that his efforts to get to know her had not been in vain and that he would be on his best behavior from then on…if that's what she wanted, that is.

Who knew what a woman wanted. Especially one as smart and as clever as Aranee. She had a grace with medicines and he wanted to know her more deeply than any want he had ever possessed, save that of ridding Middle Earth of the Sauron. This one was different though. This was internal; this was something he felt to the core of him that he needed to do. But when he'd arrived here, where he had been told she'd be with little other explanation, he had discovered his sister and Gimli sitting there.

He had inquired about Aranee, and Éowyn grabbed his hands and in hushed tones filled him in on the details of the attack and Aragorn's condition, as little known as it was. She had said that he was in grave danger and on the verge of possibly dying. Aranee had fetched the White Witch to help and since then she had not heard a peep. That had been over two hours ago.

Gimli was getting restless, Éomer noticed. He was getting up every few minutes and pacing before sitting back down again with a huff of breath.

"What do you know of medicines, dwarf?" Éomer asked him.

"Nary a thing more than you I suspect," came the gruff reply.

"And that of medicines and magic? I suppose it would surprise you to know that it isn't an easy task. They may well be in there for the rest of the night and well into the morning and still not be finished. Magic is slow to work, as is medicine. Perhaps we should put ourselves to praying for Aragorn's soul and that it drifts towards the magic instead of away." Éomer surprised even himself with the knowledge of magic. His mother, Théodwyn, though having died young, was not idle in her duties at Edoras. She had been very active in healing her brother's people and had taught some of her trade to both her children. Éowyn would know more, but she had taken up the sword at a young age, same as her brother, and since then they had not looked back at medicines.

Gimli grunted at the suggestion before getting up and muttering something about going to find Legolas and Faramir, who had taken guard of Aragorn's assassin in the tower room. Éomer glanced at his sister just then, who had gone very quiet and hadn't said a word for the past hour and a half. He knew she worried about Aragorn besides the fact that she was over her infatuation with him. Still he worried about her.

"Sister?"

"Hmm?" she responded, not taking her eyes off the spot she was staring at.

"Éowyn, would you like some food?" he asked her, thinking food might distract her from the situation briefly. They hadn't eaten dinner as of yet. No one had because of Aragorn's condition.

Finally Éowyn closed her eyes and heaved a huge sigh. "Yes, I suppose food would give me some resistance to the long night ahead of us."

"Then you plan on staying awake until there is news. You look dead tired as it is."

"I know I must look something dreadful, but I couldn't leave. I have too much tied up in this." She turned to him and offered a meek smile, though not bothering to explain what she meant.

He couldn't help it. He had to ask. "How do you mean?"

She took his hand then, "Aranee is my friend. She came to me after the attack. I cannot leave her in her hour of need. She will be very tired, and need a friend when she gets out of there. And whether Aragorn lives or dies, it will exhaust her all the same. She will need a shoulder. I plan on being that shoulder."

Éomer watched the sparkling in his sister's eyes as she spoke about her friend. "I hadn't realized you two were that close."

Éowyn sighed again. "Then you miss much, brother," she replied before rising to her feet and walking down the corridor towards the dining hall.

* * *

The incense clogged her senses, elevating her onto another level of being. She breathed it in deep, taking it into her very soul. Her eyes closed and her hands on her brother's chest and forehead. She could hear the magic that Ninia was weaving, her hands making intricate symbols with the smoke and walking around the bed every few steps.

Aranee dared not open her eyes, but she could feel Arwen sitting opposite her, mirroring her body and no doubt praying to her elven ancestors to save the man she loved. Her hair had drifted down on either side of her neck, creating a curtain of dark brown though she hadn't moved in the longest time. Aranee neither remembered what time she had entered this room nor what time of day it was now. She had lost all sense of direction except reaching out to her brother's wounds.

Her eyes shifted inside their lids as she shook and grasped at something. There at the edge of oblivion she could feel something concrete for the first time. She had never used magic to this extent and she could feel the fatigue entrenched in her muscles, but she soldiered forward, searching, covering and clasping at something still unknown. But she had found something now. Something that gave purpose to this endeavour. It was so far from the surface of everything she had ever known and experienced, and yet she was unafraid now.

At first it had been if she lost Aragorn she wouldn't know what to do with herself. She doubted she'd be able to go back to healing when she had failed him so greatly. She would probably disappear into her home and never come out. She would refuse visitors and disappear from all good society, locked inside her failure. She would probably go mad with that alternate reality, and so she had only one choice left. She would fight for her brother when he could not. She would give him whatever remained of her strength and bring him back.

When they had come back to the room laden with a bowl, a large bag of mixed herbs and large book bound in old leather, Aragorn had been as pale as a sheet. His closed eyelids had blackened and he looked ghostly. Aranee had inspected the wound and cursed aloud several times before Ninia shushed her and got to work. She lit the incense and instructed Aranee and Arwen, who had been curled at Aragorn's side, to stand on either side of him as they still were now.

"Let loose your minds and bodies and souls, give up to the unknown, let yourself float," she had said in a soft and motherly voice, full of strength and power and wisdom. "You will find what you are looking for when you find it. Do not give in to the world you find, where it can be enticing to stay in such blissful numbness. Find it and bring it back. It's the only way to save him."

And so the three women had set to work. Aranee and Arwen had stilled and dove into the ice cold pool where Aragorn had fled to, and Ninia protected them with her symbols and chanting. The incense was to give them something real to come back to. As long as they could smell the sweet and fragrant herbs, they would be able to resist the nothing world.

A brilliant white light flashed before Aranee's eyes as her hands closed over the something that she had found. She could feel it under her fingertips, despite the fact that she could also feel Aragorn's slow breathing chest and the sweat on his forehead. The white light temporarily blinded her, as if to make her let go, but she refused. Being unable to see wasn't anything compared to being unable to bring this back to life. His soul had been slipping further and further and she would not risk that any longer now that she'd found him.

She tugged once, twice, three times before she felt something rip. She hoped with all her might that it had been the tear she needed to set Aragorn free of the dark depths, but as she hoped a great sadness filled her insides. Something was wrong and it shook to her core with fright.

In her reality she could smell the incense burning and she could feel the tears flowing freely down her cheeks. Still she held firm to her brother. She needed this strength, she needed him back with her in order to fully recover and survive this. She wouldn't let her fears detract her from her cause.

She saw the surface, as one who is underwater sees the water ripple and the sun shine in the sky. She kicked strong, her hand clasped around what she now recognized as his hand. She did not look back however, because she knew she would not see him. She looked over instead and saw another form with dark brown hair mimicking her movements. The name whispered through her thoughts; _Arwen._ Arwen was coming to the surface as well. She was holding his other hand.

The sun sparkled up ahead and Aranee begged for the fresh air that would come after having been in this stale world of no emotion. Her fingers burst through, her head, neck, torso, and as she exploded into the air she could feel a light come back to life, a spark burst into a flame, and a terrible cry rent through the air.

* * *

Her eyes popped open all at once and she let out a gasp of air as if she had been holding her breath the entire time. Her vision was blurred and it took a few seconds before they refocused first on Aragorn and then on Arwen. Aragorn's body was covered in sweat, but the black eyelids that had signaled his dwindling life force had vanished and his pallor was beginning to dissipate. The wound on his collar bone was no longer purple with the poison stain. It looked instead like a week-old wound on the mend.

It was not the sight of Aragorn that shook her so. She was glad her brother was on the road to recovery. It was that of Arwen on the other side of the bed, unconscious, and being cradled by Ninia. Tears washed her face even though she was no longer awake to shed them, and her skin was pale and unhealthy looking. Even then, she was not shaken. It was the stain on her skirt, the dark red stain that was slowly spreading.

Ninia looked up to Aranee and with saddened eyes she told Aranee what had happened.

Arwen had lost her baby.

* * *

Sitting on the edge of her bed she felt like she could fall asleep and stay there in a dreamland for years to come. It would be much better than the world she was in right then. Middle Earth had turned from a warring place with endless wounded and dead into a hellish nightmare for Aranee. Everywhere she turned there was something going wrong, something that she was helpless to stop or save, and it just kept pushing her around like a whirlpool.

The satchel full of herbs and salves and medicines sat beside her on the bed. She'd sifted through its contents countless times and she'd always been able to find the cure to the ailments that the people of Minas Tirith had suffered from. She'd always been able to cure it, to make things better, even if for just a small period of time. She had that accomplishment under her belt because it was what she was truly good at; it was her gift. But now, as the people she loved the most were falling, she didn't believe in any of the medicines in that bag.

Flinging it across the room it hit the opposite wall beside the door. There was a crash of her clay jars that rattled her insides for she had never been this careless with her medicines. Yet she couldn't lift a finger to retrieve it and gather the shattered pieces, such as the shattered pieces of her life. She didn't even have the strength to cry anymore.

Aragorn was no longer falling into the bottomless pit and his soul was retrieved, but it seemed a hefty price to pay. Arwen was devastated and in bed, Ninia having seen to her needs immediately, leaving Aranee to mumble and moan her loss to the still unconscious Aragorn. She had stayed there a good half hour before Ninia had returned to report that Arwen was asleep now and was fit to recover nicely and even bear more children should she wish it. But still, the hurt of losing a child was ingrained in all of them, a thing stuck in time.

Aranee hadn't even known that Arwen was pregnant. She didn't know if Aragorn knew she was pregnant. She hoped he didn't but then again she hoped he did. Arwen was not the kind of woman to keep that kind of thing from her husband, and Aragorn was not as thickheaded as Aranee had once believed. He had a warm and loving heart, and she grieved for him in this time when he could not. Ninia had said she didn't expect Aragorn to rouse for the next couple of days. Though the fight was over, the road to recovery was still long and weary for him.

For Aranee as well, she had said, which is why Aranee now sat on her bed looking across the room at her satchel that contained cracked clay jars. She had been sent to bed. She had been escorted to Faramir's door by Éowyn who had kindly waited the entire time Aranee had been with Aragorn. She hugged her friend and bid her get some rest. Aranee walked through Faramir's room, thankful that he was not in the room at the time, or else she would have had to say something to him as well, and she wasn't at her best that instant. She might have either bit his head off or ignored him altogether, depending on what tactic he used to wheedle something out of her.

With a sigh, Aranee made up her mind not to get her satchel, it would stay where it was until she chose to go and retrieve it, but to sift through the top drawer of her oak dresser and pull out her mother's diary.

She didn't know what she would find. She didn't know what she was looking for. And she didn't know if she would find what she was looking for in Gilraen's diary, but it was worth a try.

The old and dusty journal had been in one of the trunks in an older room of the palace that Aranee had ransacked when she was younger and wilder. She had recognized the name on the front written in a neat print on the pale purple leather bindings. The gold filigree laid into the leafy designs and the gold coloring on the sides of the pages meant only one thing to Aranee when she was younger; this book was elven made. She had opened it and read the inscription in a different hand, a kind of cursive scrawl, than what Aranee recognized as her mother's now. It was a powerful elvish script that Aranee had not been able to translate.

She'd read through to the middle of the diary and had learned all about Aragorn's youthful childhood with the elves of Lorién and her own daily excursions. The first day she walked, the first word she said, the first time she had gotten sick and her mother had cured her, were all in great detail in Gilraen's journal. It seemed to Aranee that her mother didn't miss anything. Except for one thing; her father. Arathorn had been untimely taken and left Gilraen on her own to take care of Aragorn and Aranee. It was apparent in the writings of her mother that she missed her husband very much.

She wondered how they had gotten together. How was it that Arathorn proposed marriage to Gilraen? Aranee didn't know, but she would always dream. It was unfortunate that Gilraen hadn't kept a journal before the marriage and hidden it along with this one where Aranee would surely have found it. Aranee longed to have a mother-like figure now when all seemed lost.

She flipped through the ivory colored pages covered with black-as-night-ink in the printing her mother had used. She looked at the pages that she'd already read through. The first half had been a puzzle to Aranee when she was younger because her mother kept mentioning Estel. It wasn't until later that she understood that this was the name the elves had called her big brother to keep his heritage a secret. The pages also held several letters written in the same cursive elvish as the inscription at the front. Aranee had not deciphered them, but she'd studied them closely and then the pages in the diary following the letters. They were correspondence from Elrond of Rivendell who was fostering the young Aragorn for his mother.

Aranee now understood that Aragorn's childhood had been much more of a risk, more dangerous than her own, and Gilraen keeping him from his home was keeping him safe, while Aranee grew up with her mother. Gilraen died when Aranee was twenty years old and then Ninia became her mother-like-figure. As apprentice to the White Witch Aranee thought she had been doing her mother proud. It took years for her to come into her own.

Somewhere in all her readings, Aranee felt the weight of exhaustion pushing down on her eyelids, and she fell into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

He had tried to prevent himself from knocking on the door at this ungodly hour, but he couldn't seem to succeed at anything anymore when she was involved. He knocked three times and was about to turn away when the door opened and Faramir emerged.

"Legolas? What is it? Is it the prisoner?" immediately jumping to his duty, Faramir inquired after the assassin in their care until his trial.

Legolas shook his head, "Gimli and Éomer are looking to him at this hour. I was just wondering…if I could see Aranee?"

"Aranee?" Faramir looked surprised. Legolas suspected that he should be, but then the surprise turned to recognition and acceptance, which only confused Legolas. Did Faramir know something that he didn't? "Of course, I'll show you to her."

Legolas stepped through the door and followed Faramir as he stepped towards what looked like the closet door. When he swung it open however it revealed a partial stone wall and a small hole that was slightly over five feet tall. "Follow it to the top. Don't knock, you'll wake her," Faramir advised.

Legolas turned to thank Faramir, but he had already crawled back into his bed and was seconds away from falling fast asleep. It had been a long day, Legolas had to admit. Yet try as he might, he couldn't get any sleep. At first he had himself convinced it was his knee giving him problems, but then he noticed the ache came from nowhere near his knee. So he'd set out to find the one place and one person who could help him.

Walking the tunnel was an eerie feeling. He had been underground several times before, and he had never known what he was walking towards when he took those steady steps. Now though, his nervous steps were for the very opposite because he knew exactly where this tunnel led and what was at the other end.

The tunnel journey gave Legolas a chance to work up to what he was going to say to her. He had heard about Aragorn and Arwen from the rumors flying around the city. Secrets did not stay secret long when they concerned the king and his lady. Legolas wanted to thank Aranee, but not just in the cordial 'thank you' as any menial courtier would do. Their moment shared was more than enough to tie them together in a more intimate way. He was just forming his words when he came to the door of her home.

He raised his hand to knock when Faramir's words echoed in his head. He thought it rude not to knock just incase she was indecent, but then again she had probably fallen asleep in her work clothes from exhaustion. Instead he decided to enter her domain with his head down to give her some privacy, should she need it.

But it was as he suspected, for Aranee lay curled up on her quilted bed, her head lolling against the pillow and a small, lavender-colored notebook on her chest. Legolas approached, enraptured by the peaceful look on her face. She looked like a small child. Softly he moved a stray strand of hair away from her forehead and for a moment she stirred and he feared she would wake. But instead she loosened her clutch on the book and it fell to the ground with a small thud. She turned over and curled up the other way. Legolas thought the coolness of the cave was what made her curl in that way so he drew the blanket at the foot of the bed up over her shoulders and watched with fascination as her hand curled around the edge of the material and pulled it closer.

He then bent over to retrieve the journal she had dropped. It was delicate, he could tell, for a few of the loose pages fell when he grabbed it. He picked those up as well and noticed that they weren't loose pages at all, but rather letters tucked away in what Legolas now recognized as a diary. The cover held a single word; **Gilraen**. Curiosity struck at him harder than a dwarfen hammer and he had to turn the cover and read the first page.

What he found there was something he had not expected. The elvish script that seemed all too familiar to Legolas was simple and elegant and written in green and gold ink. He recognized it for the lettering alone, but then again for what the lettering said.

_Given to Gilraen to hold and protect all the accounts of her offspring, Aragorn and Aranee, with the fondest love – Elrond_

The few words that stood out to Legolas nearly made him drop the book. Offspring? Fondest love? Elrond? How could this be? That must mean…it couldn't. He had known Aragorn forever, since they were small children, and he had never heard tell of any sister or even the name of his mother come to think of it. Aragorn had been Estel, his closest friend, and they shared everything together. How come he had never been told?

He flipped through the pages and found more proof to the theory growing inside his mind. The letters that had dropped out littered the first half of the book, all in Elrond's writing. Elrond had fostered Aragorn it seemed, in the hopes to keep his heritage a secret. His mother feared the same fate for her son as that of her beloved husband. There it was, in black and green ink, the childhood of his best friend. But not only the childhood of Aragorn, but also the childhood of the young woman currently curled up, fast asleep, on the bed in front of him.

Aranee? Aragorn's sister? It seemed too impossible to conceive, and yet there she lay, living proof. It was a wonder that Legolas hadn't seen it before. The similarities were striking and beautiful. His own foolish heart had prevented him from seeing it; from understanding and knowing what was as plain as the light of day.

That brought another question to mind. Who else knew? How many people had seen it right away that Aragorn and Aranee were related? No one else was around from previous days of the kings of Men. No one except Ninia could possibly know because she had mentored Aranee in medicines and herbs. Legolas then assured himself that Ninia was the only person who knew. What did that serve though? Why didn't Aranee tell Aragorn?

To tell the king she was his sister would…put her in grave danger, he realized. As the previous attack proved, there were still those both inside and outside the city walls that wished ill upon Aragorn and perhaps the entire royal family. Shedding that light upon Aranee's lineage would put her in the direct line of fire. It would disrupt her calm and peaceful life and Legolas now understood why she couldn't tell this secret.

Closing the journal, Legolas turned and glanced down at Aranee. She was everything he had ever dreamed of, and there was something that linked them together, be it the healing powers that her hands had on his leg and knee, or the embrace they had shared when her brother had been attacked, or whether it was from the first moment he saw her, there was something. He knew deep down that his heart longed for hers. But with this newfound information, he hadn't the courage to tell her. He didn't even have the courage to thank her for saving Aragorn's life. It had been as much a duty to her as it had been a lifeline. If she lost Aragorn then she wouldn't have any family left. Legolas now knew that.

The dawning light was now coming over the mountains across the Fields of Pelennor and Aranee stirred. He wouldn't wake her, Legolas decided. He would stay and watch over her. He crossed to the windows and drew the curtains that Aranee probably hadn't the strength to close on her own. He found a chair and sat down in it, but not before placing the lavender diary back on the bed beside Aranee. She wouldn't find out that he knew. He couldn't risk it.


	8. Letters of Love

**Chapter Eight: Letters of Love**

The training arena was empty. It was never empty. The past year had been a time when the arena always had new recruits learning weaponry if there was time and if there wasn't time then the men would be sent to the armory for fitting. But it was empty today except for one person. She had found the armory on one of her lonely wanderings and today she felt more of a need to grasp a sword than ever before. She had too much built up frustration and with a sword in hand she could alleviate those feelings. Or at least that was her hope.

Éowyn gripped her sword and felt the hilt and blade beneath her fingers, felt the leather and steel whirr in her grasp. She whirled around feeling the sharp blade slice the thick air around her. She took several swipes at the wooden pillar used in training to mark the soldiers' aim and strength of his arm. The gashes she managed to cut out of the pillar were deep and once or twice the sword went so deep that it stuck in the wood. To which her answer was just to get frustrated in getting it unstuck and then swing at the pillar with twice the force.

She felt the need to tear the pillar apart with steel alone, but when she fumbled and dropped her sword once she turned and kicked it, making it fall to the ground with an echoing thud. Letting out a scream she rounded, grabbing her sword and making another effort to chop away at the pillar when her blade met steel instead.

Faramir stood in front of her with his sword raised to block from the preemptive blow. He said nothing. He stepped over the felled pillar, his sword never leaving Éowyn's, and in clear space he continued the fight.

Attack, parry, attack, parry. Steel against steel, the two of them fought for a good length of time before Éowyn took charge and completely disarmed Faramir. His sword was thrown to the side and the tip of Éowyn's blade rested against a visible scar on his collarbone. Faramir's hands were raised in surrender and a smile broke out on his face.

"Well done, my lady," he commended her.

Éowyn's frustration dropped like a stone in water when the smile lit up his face and she let her sword fall to her side. Sticking it in the sandy arena ground she moved away from the blade and towards Faramir, whose hands were now at his sides. She lifted a hand to his chest and exhaled a large breath.

"Something is the matter?" he asked, covering her hand with one of his.

Looking up at him she smiled meekly, "What gave me away?"

Faramir chuckled, "That blade was far from blunt. You were doing more damage than some of the cities fully trained sentries with a lifetime of experience."

"Yes, well, you could say I wanted to do some damage. I could take down an army of Uruk-hai with my bare hands."

"Why?" he asked. When she didn't say anything he guessed, "Is it Aragorn?"

"Partially," she admitted. The truth was that she really didn't have a clear reason for being angry and frustrated. Although Aragorn's recovery had bettered the situation, she still felt like ripping an Orc limb from limb. "I don't know Faramir," she said. "I wish it were that simple to explain. But it isn't. I could be going around in circles before I ever found a solid answer."

He nodded, "That's fine. I confess that I have had similar feelings of late. I haven't known whether to laugh or get really angry. It could be different, but then again it could be the same. It has been hard for all of us."

Éowyn looked back at him and could see behind his guarded eyes that there was more on his mind than what he was saying. She nibbled at the corner of her lip debating whether or not she should say something.

He seemed to catch on fast however and instead continued with a sigh. "You have been honest with me, and so it is only fair that I am honest with you. I will tell you if you like."

Éowyn smiled, "Would you like to sit down?"

"Please, that would be nice, thank you."

They walked over to a stone bench by the far wall and sat. He still held her hand and when he began to speak he turned it over and began drawing lazy symbols on her palm. "There is no easy way to say this," he said.

"Whatever it is, I want to know. Please."

"Okay. It's Aranee."

Surprised, she smiled, for Aranee had also been on her mind. Perhaps what Faramir told her would be able to complete some of the thoughts that were rolling around her mind. "Yes?"

"She is like a sister to me. I suppose you could say she is the only family I have left in this place. But lately I've seen her doubting herself, doubting her skills in medicine. She is very weak, and this attack o Aragorn and the extent she used her energy is not good. I don't know what ails her so, and I so wish I knew."

Aranee had made Éowyn promise not to tell anyone about Aragorn being her brother. That begged the question in Éowyn's mind if Faramir already knew. They were the best of friends and so it was logical that Faramir was privy to that knowledge. But if he wasn't then it was just one more person that knew Aranee's secret. Éowyn wouldn't be the cause of that knowledge slipping out into the open.

These thoughts passed through her head quickly and she'd already ruled out telling Faramir, so what he said next startled her. "I probably shouldn't be telling you this," he said softly, "but Aranee is Aragorn's sister. This attack and Aragorn's potentially fatal condition was very hard on her."

Before she thought better of it, Éowyn replied, "I know."

Faramir looked up surprised and her words. "You know?"

Éowyn nodded, "Aranee came to me after the attack, before she'd gone to the White Witch for help, and she let it slip. She made me promise not to tell anyone. I didn't know if you knew that already."

"I know." He then turned away and stared thoughtfully into the distance. "This changes things then," he mumbled.

Éowyn then made up her mind to share her information with him. Anything they could come up with to help Aranee would mean a great deal to the both of them. "I also have something to tell." He looked back at her. "Éomer is in love with Aranee."

Faramir nodded, "Yes, I thought so. How in love, do you know?"

Éowyn shrugged, "He doesn't tell me enough, but if I had to guess I would say he was truly and madly in love with her. It consumes his thoughts. Though lately he has been more saddened than all that and I cannot make out why."

"I suspect that Aranee spurned his love, or at least his attempts to woo her. She is very independent minded and lacking in those areas. She's never been in love I don't think."

Out of curiosity, she couldn't help but asking, "Was she ever in love with you?"

He must have seen that question coming because he simply smiled at her and shook his head. "We've always been more brother and sister. We've never been romantically involved nor has she ever expressed those kinds of feelings for me. She always tells me everything. Which is probably why these past few days scares me so. She hasn't come to me at all. She's been by herself, holding onto her thoughts, which isn't good for her."

"She told me that she was afraid to lose her brother. That she couldn't let her only remaining family die. She must have worked so hard to try and save him. It's worn her clean through. What can we do to help her?"

Faramir was thoughtful for a few moments before saying, "We have to get her to talk about it. I've been trying to tell her that she should tell Aragorn that they are brother and sister, but she refused to listen. Perhaps that will have to come out of its own accord."

"You mentioned that she is beginning to doubt her skill?" He nodded. "Well then we have to find something that makes her believe in it again."

"She's always been confident about her medicines. Even when she left her apprenticeship at the Houses of Healing with the Healers of Gondor and Arnor, she was always certain that she could continue to do what she did best."

"Who was she apprenticed to?"

"The White Witch, Ninia. Aranee was in line to take the Witch's robes when she passed on into the Otherworld."

Éowyn had never known that. She had seen how close Aranee and the White Witch were, but she never thought it went past friendship. Ninia had been a mentor to Aranee. "Why did she leave the Houses of Healing?"

Faramir shrugged, "She never really said. I suppose she felt that she needed to go elsewhere to fulfill her purpose as a healer. I doubt she's found it however, because if she had she wouldn't be struggling to keep her skills. She's falling."

They sat quiet for a long few minutes before Éowyn finally said something. "I cannot begin to fathom what can be done to help her."

Faramir nodded and looked back at her, "Nor I. But I'm sure something will present itself. I hope something will at least."

Éowyn could only silently agree.

More time passed and they sat on the bench beside each other. When their conversation had finally dimmed and been pushed to the back of her mind, Éowyn turned back to Faramir and smiled. He returned the smile and brought her hand up to his mouth and kissed the back of his gently. She wanted more than just a kiss on the hand though, so she leaned over and silently begged him to kiss her. A knowing smiled curved his mouth and he obliged by laying a sweet and tender kiss on her lips. With a sigh she deepened the kiss.

When they broke apart, Faramir, with a loving twinkle in his blue eyes, looked at her and whispered, "I love you."

With a light laugh and a tear falling down her face she threw her arms around him and held him close. "I love you too," she replied.

* * *

Her head ached when she awoke. There was no bright light inside her cold, cavernous room, but that didn't matter. It had nothing do with outside light. It was everything on the inside that pounded and thudded with a dull crash. Her head hurt something fierce and she had forgotten where she'd put her medicine bag…

Oh right, she'd thrown it across the room in frustration at her life falling to pieces. She had wanted to rise to fetch her bag and aid her headache, but at the flashes of memory of the past few days she merely sank back onto her pillow and heaved out a huge sigh. There was little she could do and it was that very feeling that gave her head the throbbing like someone had dropped a bag of stones on it.

A soft snore from across the room drew her attention. Though she could not see the man in the chair, she saw the outline, nearly jumping out of her skin, as well as getting her heart to beat at an accelerated rate. She reached over to the table beside her, trying her best to ignore the pain behind her eyes, and felt for her flint and oil lamp. She found them promptly, struck true and the lamp came to life, igniting a bright flame that lit her nest.

She recognized the man in the chair. Her brow furrowed at first, wondering what he could possibly be doing sitting in her chair, having fallen asleep in that awkward position no less, without waking her. Faramir had obviously let him through his room to get to hers, which could possibly have been a bad sign, if she didn't know Faramir as well as she did.

She dropped her feet to the floor and got up off her bed to walk quietly towards the sleeping figure. He looked uncomfortable. He would have a kink in the back of his neck when he awoke. She reached out and hesitated in waking him, but found herself reasoning it was better she ask him what he wanted now and not wait until later. Later she may very well have no time left and everything good in her existence up until now might have perished in the flames that were consuming her life.

"Legolas," Aranee prodded him gently. He didn't rouse. She grasped at his shoulder and shook him a little harder. With lightening speed and accuracy, Legolas was awake and there was a knife poised and at the ready at the base of Aranee's throat. She was too scared to talk. Too scared to think. Too scared to cry, though she knew they would come afterwards.

Legolas's eyes transitioned from anger to knowing to regret in a matter of seconds. His fingers loosed on the hilt of the blade he'd seemingly conjured out of thin air and let it drop and rattle on the floor. He took two steps back and Aranee still couldn't move. Her breathing had resumed, her thinking had not.

"Aranee," he whispered. He reached out to touch her and involuntarily her body flinched at the action. It made it seem like she was cringing away from him. His forward motion ceased and he spewed a few Elven words that Aranee guessed might have been curses.

Coherent thought seeped back into her system and she shook to the core at the knowledge that this man before her might have killed her. She was a foolish girl. She dropped to her knees and looked down at her hands, palms up, that were shaking back and forth with fright. "What's happening to me?" she asked herself.

She wouldn't answer her own rhetorical question, but Legolas did. "There's nothing wrong with you." When his hands found her shoulders she didn't flinch. Instead she leaned into their warm comfort.

"Something's wrong with me," Aranee protested. "There has to be. It's the only reason for me to be making so many mistakes. For being so incompetent."

She was shaking her head back and forth and shivers wrought through her, not from the cold, but from the fear deep within her.

Legolas mistook it for cold and his warm hands disappeared for a second only to be replaced by the blanket from her bed and his arms. He kneeled in front of her, arms wrapped around her, comforting her despite the lack of tears. She wasn't crying. He then sat and pulled her from the floor onto his lap. Cradling her head against the crook of his neck, his hands rubbing up and down her arms and back, he held her close to him and murmured sweet nothings in Elfish. She didn't understand what he was saying. She didn't care.

Words that she understood finally found her ears. He was saying, "You must not believe that you are responsible for anything that has happened. Aragorn, Arwen, myself even, because none of it is. You are not a savior, Aranee. You are a healer and you heal what you can and let go of what you can't. Things happen that are out of our hands. We are incapable of changing them. It's a wasted life to those who spend their lives thinking 'What if?' instead of thinking 'What comes next?'You cannot control everything, Aranee."

She was shaking her head against his side. There was no way he could know the depth of what she was feeling. "You wouldn't understand," she muttered.

"Perhaps," he replied. "But there is always a chance."

She thought over it. She trusted Legolas, of that she was certain, but trusting him with a secret like this was overwhelming. She didn't think she could do it. Telling Éowyn in a weak and tired moment was one thing, but telling Legolas with full knowledge as well as understanding that he and Aragorn were close friends made everything seem too risky. There was a chance he might understand. But there was also a chance he might slip it to Aragorn, even in his coma, his unconscious state, and he might recall it afterwards. She didn't want Aragorn finding out any way other than from herself, if at all. She wouldn't say anything to Legolas. It wasn't possible.

She snuggled in closer to Legolas but didn't say anything. He must've gotten the point because he didn't say anything about it afterwards. Not even when he kissed her forehead as he'd done in the hallway outside of Aragorn's chambers after his attack. He let it go and Aranee was grateful for that.

When she decided that she'd had enough comfort for now, though she didn't really want to get up off the elf's lap, she rose and then helped him to his feet. They held hands for a few moments before Aranee realized suddenly that her headache had vanished. She touched her forehead and not a single ache was triggered. She managed a small smile at the thought that Legolas had cured her ailment, an accomplishment that no one but herself had been able to muster in the past. He fixed her.

The thought sounded nice in her head, but as soon as Aranee said it out loud, the feeling would disappear. She just felt it. It was like the bloom of some rare herbs she collected for her medicine satchel. As soon as you touched it, it dried and faded. But, Aranee thought, that didn't make the herbs any less useful. Perhaps she should say it out loud and acknowledge the power he had over her?

She opened her mouth to tell him but was cut off abruptly by a knock at the door. She self-consciously slipped out of Legolas's embrace and went to open her door.

Faramir stood there outlined in the dark tunnel. He had a grim look on his face. "Faramir, what is it?" Aranee asked in all her exhaustion. She still cared very much about her friend and hated to think of something ever hurting him.

Luckily what he said wasn't personal. "The King rouses. He requests both of you at his side. I hate to think of the task at hand, but there is still the assassin to think about. He must not be allowed to live any longer. His strict and quick punishment is a necessity to Aragorn's safety."

Legolas appeared beside Aranee. "I understand," he nodded to Faramir. "But we cannot vex the king. Recall he has been through a terrible ordeal."

Faramir nodded in return. "Understood, which is why I thought it might be better coming from you Legolas. Arwen is not fit enough and she would be more suitable, despite her lack of enthusiasm towards the punishment. She is a kind heart. But she is still unwell from her accident." His eyes shifted towards Aranee and she looked away from his gaze. Was he blaming her? "So would you ask him about it, Legolas?"

"I will broach the topic if I can," he answered. "I don't like the idea, but I agree with you. Aragorn is in much too much danger."

Aranee looked at Legolas, finding her heart much in agreement with both Legolas and Faramir. She didn't want the assassin, Ramirez, to be able to finish the deed he was contracted for. But when she looked into Legolas's eyes there was something more. Just as when she'd looked at Faramir. Did they both blame her for this? Was there something they weren't telling her? She didn't ask and they didn't say. She would question Faramir later. She could count on him. He was unable to lie to her.

Legolas's eyes stayed with Aranee. Finally he said, "Fetch your medicine satchel, Aranee."

Aranee looked over at the satchel on the floor. The clay jars inside were useless, the oils and ointments and crushed herbs probably littered the bottom of the bag. She didn't care in the least. She went over and grabbed it nonetheless, threw it over her shoulder, patted at her hair restlessly and looked at the two men.

Faramir spoke, "'Nee, would you like us to wait for you while you change?"

Aranee shook her head without hesitation. She didn't care about her appearance. She wanted to see her brother. She wanted to see him for her own eyes and understand that he was indeed recovering and that her rescue efforts of his soul from the deepest part of the In Between World had not been a dream.

Faramir nodded his head, "Very well." He turned and started down the down-sloping tunnel towards the hidden-door at the back of his room.

Aranee made to follow him when Legolas stopped her with the brush of his hand on her arm. There moments before were suddenly remembered and Aranee crumbled at the touch back into the shelter and safety of his arms. He embraced her, comforting her very soul. "You will get through his Aranee," he told her. "There is nothing you can't do."

Aranee pulled back, finding his piercing blue eyes glistening with wisdom and knowledge. He believed in everything he said. It was a shame that she could not. She had no strength. Not anymore. There was too much uncertainly rolling around her mind. There were many things she had failed to do and the thought killed her.

Perhaps if…"Legolas, will you do something for me?"

"Anything."

"Will you be my strength? For now, I need that belief in me when I have none, so will you be strong for me?" She looked longingly into his eyes once again.

He gave her a soft smile and brought his hand up to her face. He cupped her cheek and brushed his fingers over her forehead pulled away the stray strands of hair. "Whatever you need," he told her.

His lips on hers were soft and gentle. The kiss was delicate and without want. He would be her rock. He would follow her to the ends of the earth and beyond to keep her safe. Usually this thought would bother her. She didn't need to be taken care of. It was her job to take care of others. But right now, she needed him desperately.

He stepped back though never released her hand. "To our king," he said.

Aranee nodded and turned to follow the long-gone Faramir down the tunnel. Her brother had called and she must not disobey. She would not lose the only family she had left.


	9. Comforting a King

**Chapter Nine: Comforting a King**

Aragorn's head rested on his pillow, still not capable of doing much more than lie there in a state of uselessness. But he didn't really feel like doing anything, truth be told. He felt like he was going to pass into unconsciousness at any moment. Every second there was a wave of nausea that would barrel him over. His eyes would roll into the back of his head as he clung to a sense of what he wanted to call peace but really just a state of being without pain and sickness.

The entire time he had been wrestling with the assassin in black he was reacting with instinct. He would have accepted surrender instantly, but the man continued to fight. Struggling with him even after he'd been nicked by the poisoned blade was harder. After so much blood and suffering from the war he didn't like the thought of spilling more blood. He had tasted blood and didn't like it. He wouldn't relish punishing this man, but he knew he must.

He had been swept away by the unbearable pain and by the absence of feeling. His leg had gone numb and then everything else seemed to follow. Limb by limb he was taken. Then he was floating in a world devoid of any feeling. He was numb. He had no body. When he tried to look down at his own hands there had been nothing to look at. He had become a wisp of smoke, a being without essence. He feared he would never live again. He floated in that state of nothingness for so long. He had no detection of time. There was no sense to this place where the poison had landed him. He searched for the exit only to be blockaded and sent back into darkness and nothingness. He was drifting further and further, deeper and deeper, until a point where he couldn't remember what it was like to feel.

He didn't know when it was exactly that he felt the tug on his being. But he felt it and was awash with feeling once again. It was a terrified feeling. A hand searching blindly in the dark, and it both relieved him and frightened him at the same time. Then another tug and he was being retrieved from the emptiness. There was happiness on one side and a frantic need on the other. One tug was overjoyed at the idea of having found what they were looking for. The other tug was more urgent, as though if they did not accomplish this they would never forgive themselves. Slowly his senses returned to him. He could feel his limbs popping back into existence. He saw the bright light ahead and prepared himself to re-enter the world.

He surfaced, his eyes did not open. But he was no longer drifting. He was asleep and weary. He vaguely heard voices, muffled and hysterical. The voices ceased. Silence. He could feel the bed he was laying in. His dreams betrayed to him that he was in his chamber and he was safe once more. He no longer had to struggle to find feeling. He could feel the air change around him more acutely than he'd even experienced. The muffled voices he heard were replaced by a single voice. It was sobbing and incoherent. He considered opening his eyes to comfort the sobbing person but found he didn't have the strength to open them. He tried moving his hand over the hand someone was pressing to his chest but there was no response. His being was back but his body had paid the price.

And so he'd slept. He slept for as long as he needed. When he awoke he wasn't alone. In the chair beside his bed was the White Witch. Her white-grey hair was braided and hanging over her shoulder as she nodded in sleep. He opened his mouth to speak and a husky croak exited his lips. This jerked the woman awake. She rushed to his side. "No, don't try to speak, Your Majesty. There is little use. You have forgotten how to speak. The words will come. Would you like some water?"

He nodded. She went away from the bed to a bucket and ladle on the floor to scoop up some water. He thought over her words. He'd forgotten how to speak? But he could form words in his mind. What was she talking about? She came to him with the spoon and gently lifted his head to allow him to drink. The water spilled down his throat and chin. It felt wonderful. He couldn't get enough. But the White Witch would not allow him to continue. "Moderation," she chided. "Remember that you have lost much of your senses. You have come back confused and uncoordinated. It's why you cannot speak. I'm sure you think me a foolish old woman for saying so. You must want to talk, there is much to ask, but believe me. A few more hours awake and you shall be right as rain."

He opened his mouth to ask a question of her despite having been told he was unable. He croaked and the White Witch smiled. "I will tell you all that I can. For starters you must be wondering where your wife is?" A sad look crossed her face but she continued on. "She is fine. She helped bring you back. She is asleep now. She was exhausted." There was something left unsaid that Aragorn could hear in her voice. Before he could croak to attempt to ask her more she rambled on about various other things. Concern for his wife kept him from listening though.

Finally she got to the end of her recollection and brought up Aranee. It was her name that drew his eyes to the woman telling the story. He wanted to ask about Aranee. Did she suffer from the attack of the assassin as well? The White Witch wasted no time in the telling. "My lord, she is well enough I believe. She worked hard to save you. It was something that weighed heavily on her heart and mind. She suffered greatly. You must not be hard on her when you see her. She is a good child."

His mouth formed the words and they just seemed to pop out. "I know," he said. His voice was still rough but at least he was capable of forming words now. His head lay still. The White Witch nodded and went back to sit in her chair. An hour later a serf entered the room with a tray of food for Aragorn. The White Witch helped him to sit and then spoon-fed him like a child.

The useless feeling lasted through the meal, a very lean bowl of broth with a slab of unbuttered bread on the side, and returned again the next morning when he woke. The White Witch sat in her chair still, head lolling in sleep. His voice came out stronger than it had the day before and he woke her. "I would like to see Arwen," he said.

She hesitated. "I do not think that is wise, my lord. She is still asleep. I expect her to be so for another day yet. She was truly exhausted."

Aragorn sighed. He needed his queen, but if it was better for her to sleep then so be it. "Then fetch Aranee and Legolas."

She hesitated once again but nodded. "At once, my lord."

She'd left the room before he could ask her to help him sit up. He'd tried to do it by himself but failed and gave up. He would ask when she returned. He was weak, he admitted to himself, but at least he was recovering.

The White Witch returned a little while later followed by Legolas and Aranee. He saw briefly that the two were holding hands but upon entering they released them. He was curious about that but wouldn't ask. Aranee had her head down as she continued to walk into the room. She was sad. Legolas walked in, head held high looking in Aragorn's direction, eager to see his friend was alright. Aragorn had always been grateful to have such a good friend in the elf.

"Aragorn," the elf said, "You are looking better. How are you feeling?"

Aragorn cleared his throat, "I'm feeling better. There hasn't truly been time to tell. I am feeling better than I did before. Thanks to Aranee I am told." He looked at her expectantly but she did not look at him. She nodded her head and curtseyed slightly but never looked at him. Was she truly okay like the Witch had said?

Aragorn made up his mind and then asked, "Could I speak to Legolas privately for a moment?"

The White Witch nodded and Aranee simply followed the old woman. Legolas's eyes strayed to Aranee once before the door closed behind her. "Do you have feelings for Aranee?" Aragorn asked in the elfish tongue that Legolas was familiar with.

Legolas's head snapped back to Aragorn with a little shock. It was momentary but noticeable. Legolas then smiled and nodded, "She is a good woman. I am very fond of her."

"It is different for you then. This is like nothing you have felt before?"

Shaking his head he replied, "It is new and wonderful. I cannot ignore that feeling."

"Cannot and should not. She is very special. There is something about her that I find familiar. I haven't placed her yet, but I know I should be thankful for her being sent to us. She has been a great help to the both of us."

"She saved your life, Aragorn. That is little more than a great help, don't you think?"

"It is. But what does she think? Why is she so quiet? Is she alright?"

Legolas hesitated. There was something in his eyes that said he believed otherwise, but answered instead, "She is exhausted, that is all. She also feels a great responsibility with saving your life."

"Of course," Aragorn said. "I hope I will be able to repay her."

"I think the only repayment that Aranee requires is to know that you are well and that you appreciate her. She is…starting to doubt herself. Almost losing you was the final straw. I don't know if she will continue Healing."

"She doubts herself that much?"

Legolas nodded.

"Well then we must find a way to remedy that for her. She cannot fix herself when she is focused on fixing others."

Legolas smiled in agreement. Then his face was suddenly very solemn. "Aragorn, I know this is probably a bad time, but at Faramir's request, he has asked me to mention the pending trial for the assassin who nearly killed you. We believe that it should be taken care of sooner rather than later. None of us want to see your life threatened again. What are your thoughts?"

Aragorn contemplated for a few moments. He didn't like the idea, but he knew that something had to be done soon. "I suppose we shall hold the trial. Tomorrow evening. This man had better think on his conscience and prepare his soul for what is to come. I solely cannot decide his fate. But I can guess the outcome."

"Of course, Aragorn. I must also insist on delving further into this attack. Ramirez was not the only perpetrator. Apparently there are others in the city that would see you harmed. Faramir, Gimli, Éomer and I agree that one man's death may rally the others to do something less secretive and hit even harder."

Aragorn considered this. "Perhaps then we should not sentence for death, but banishment or prison. Death is a powerful motivator and if we remove that the threat might diminish."

"But does that show you are too lenient a king? Aragorn, he tried to kill you and nearly did. I would have run him through on sight if I had known you were not going to end his life as soon as you were well again. A man like that does not deserve to live."

Aragorn's eyes and voice turned hard. "Every man deserves to live. It is my duty to keep my people safe. If I am the target then they need not fear these assassins. But death to any man after so much war is not my ideal kingdom. I will only kill in necessity; only in defence."

Legolas looked at his friend with wide eyes. "I understand your need to end this bloodshed, Aragorn. But by ending this man's life you would be defending not only yourself, but others as well. There are others who this man could hurt to get to you. You must remember that he is not alone."

"I am not ignorant of the fact, Legolas!" Aragorn was reduced to raising his voice. His temper flared and he did not like it. Legolas' offense backed down immediately and he fell back off the bed to stand. The elf did not have anything else to say, and this was not what Aragorn had wanted from this visit. Legolas nodded his goodbye and went to the door.

"I would like to see Aranee," Aragorn prompted in a quiet voice. Legolas nodded and went through the door. A moment later Aranee walked in with her head down and her hands hidden in the folds of her rumpled skirt.

"My lord Aragorn," she said softly.

"My lady Aranee," Aragorn returned. "It would seem that I have much more to thank you for. First you save my elf and now you save me." Aragorn smiled in an attempt to get her to look at him.

Her head did not rise. Instead she curtseyed again, keeping her eyes on the floor and said, "It was my duty, my lord."

Aragorn frowned. Where was the fiery woman from a few days earlier who had walked into the library, head held high, and ready to butt heads with him over anything? She was altered somehow. Had his near-death experience really shaken the deeper fibres of her nature? Was it as the White Witch had said, and she was vulnerable to the outside world more so than anyone could ever imagine?

He shook his head, "No, Aranee, it was not a duty. It was a need. I am glad you felt such a need. I am glad it was you by my bedside when I was on the verge of losing this world. Please accept my humble thanks. You have a gift that is not to be ignored. I shan't forget this kindness you have done for me."

She didn't say anything. She didn't look at him. He wanted her recognition. He wanted her to be well again; he wanted to see that fire he'd seen only once. "Please come here," he whispered holding out his hand to her.

Her head popped up suddenly and Aragorn nearly cursed at the streams of tears flowing down her face. She rushed towards him, taking his hand in hers as she fell to the side of his bed. She cradled his hand to her face and sobbed harder. He took his other hand and rested it on her head, petting her hair, trying anything to sooth her. This need to comfort her did not diminish. It was ingrained into his very being. His protectiveness included everyone but at this moment it especially included her.

He listened to her crying and caught few of the words she was muttering. "I thought...didn't know if I could...save you. I thought I'd die...I can't lose you...no. So...sorry…"

He had no idea what she was talking about. He did not say anything. He just let her cry and mutter until she was quiet and lying on the side of the bed with his hand still in hers.

When she raised her head to look at him her face was red, her cheeks blotchy and her eyes still rimming with tears. Her breaths were heavy and uneven but she was slowing down. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't apologize, please Aranee. There is nothing you should be apologizing for."

A momentary frown crossed her face. "Then you don't know?" she asked quietly.

It was Aragorn's turn to frown. "Know about what?"

"Arwen...her baby...I'm so sorry."

She dropped her head again and kissed his hand. He barely noticed. His mind was racing. Arwen? Her baby? Oh sweet God. It couldn't be true. "Aranee, tell me it's not true. Please, tell me Arwen is alright."

Aranee's eyes met his. "She is fine. She is recovering. She helped to save you. But the price was high and...and she...she has lost her child."

A dull thud slammed against his chest. So it was true. And he could not be there for his wife in her time of need. The thought rattled him to the core. He needed to be with her. "Where is she now?"

"Ninia didn't think she should stay and so they moved her to another chamber."

"Help me to her, please?"

She looked skeptical. "Are you sure? Can you...I mean are you sure you are able?"

He looked at her with hard eyes. He didn't care if this wounded her anymore, he needed to be with his wife, and hopefully she could understand that. "I would go to be with my wife, now! I can't do it without your help."

She nodded hurriedly, "Of course." She rushed to put her arm around his neck and lift him into a sitting position. He brushed back the covers and swung his legs over the side of his bed. "You were unable to feel your leg earlier, how is it?"

He put his hand on his knee and felt the weight. "I can feel it fine."

"Good, then the dioxins did their job. I thought for sure..." she didn't finish her sentence.

He finished it for her. "You thought I might lose my leg?"

"No, not that. I thought you might never feel it again though and that would almost be the same thing as if it weren't there at all."

"Help me stand."

She wedged her shoulder under his arm and lifted him to his feet. He swayed a little but she kept him upright. She was quite strong he noted. "One foot at a time, my lord," she advised.

"Aragorn, please. We are well past formalities, Aranee. I will heed your advice however and be careful."

They made it to the door and Aranee had it open with her one hand before returning it to Aragorn's chest. Legolas and the White Witch stood just outside the door. Legolas' head popped up and immediately he came to take Aragorn's other arm. Together, both Aranee and Legolas manoeuvred Aragorn down the hall and to the room where Arwen was resting inside.

Arwen was sitting on a large stack of pillows with her eyes down looking at her hands twisting in the blankets covering her. Aragorn saw her and his heart nearly stopped. She looked so pale and torn. He couldn't get to her fast enough. She looked up at him and those carrying him momentarily with a flicker of relief passing over her face before she nodded her head again to stare at her hands.

He was lead to the side of the bed and helped to sit down. He looked back at Legolas who still had a stern look on his face and then at Aranee who looked sad and remorseful. Aragorn could tell that she somehow felt responsible for the loss of his child. "Thank you," he told them. They exited the room and he was left alone with Arwen.

She was still focused on her hands so he took his own hand and placed it in hers. He believed his hands could once heal just about anything. Now as he held his wife's cold, pale hands, he didn't think they could anymore. In Elfish he said to her, "My love, please speak to me. I cannot read your mind."

A small smile tweaked the corners of her lips. In a quiet voice she replied, "I feel so empty, Aragorn." A tear slid down her cheek.

"I know. You hurt. I can feel that hurt within you. Let me help you carry this pain. I want to make you feel better."

She looked at him, her eyes meeting his. "A fine pair we make. Come lie with me, my love and we will comfort each other."

With what body strength he had in him, Aragorn pulled himself to lie beside Arwen, shifting his arm around her as she leaned into his chest. Only then did he realize how much the world needed him, how grateful he was to be alive, and just how much he had resting on his shoulders. His wife needed him; his friends needed him, but not only that. The threat on his life, the near-death experience had opened his eyes to the priorities he would see to as soon as he was recovered. There were things in this kingdom that were not perfect as he had hoped to find. True there was a sickness of war, but there was still a sickness in his people. They were hurt and wounded from the long-time struggles they had suffered. As king he was expected to fix all that. This thought resolved him further to get well again. He had his work cut out for him but he would see the job done. He was a good leader, he had always known that, and he would lead his people to the comfort they needed. He would end this unrest and bring the Days of Peace, the Days of the King, to this land. It would be his everlasting legacy.


	10. Farewell to Minas Tirith

**Chapter Ten: Farewell to Minas Tirith**

Aranee left Arwen's room with her eyes solely on the couple currently embracing each other in comfort to counteract the pain they both felt. Aranee did not know what it felt like to lose a child, but she imagined it would feel like losing a piece of you. You feed and nurture the little being inside you, hoping and wishing that all goes well, and then it suddenly ends. Aranee had no likeness to the aftershock of that loss. But she could envision the initial pain it caused. At the very second that everything is lost. She could feel that distinctly. Like a great harsh ripping and tearing in someone's soul. The pain wouldn't last, but the hole inside you would. Aranee just hoped that Aragorn, her brother, and Arwen could forget this loss and continue to renew those once bright hopes.

She leaned against the closed door and wiped her face with both hands, a sign of exhaustion. There was a point of exhaustion that Aranee had reached during the war when she no longer felt the things that were important. She wouldn't feel refreshed when she drank water; or replenished when she had a few hours sleep. She had been so far beyond exhaustion that it had taken a month to get back into a regular pattern again. She felt on the verge of feeling that again. Chaos and fatigue had taken over her life. She needed to get away. She needed to go somewhere where she could sleep and relax and there wouldn't be any distractions.

* * *

She looked over to see Legolas speaking with Faramir. Faramir noticed her but Legolas had his back to her. As much as she needed his strength, she admitted to herself that a romantic entanglement would just add to her problems right now. The kiss they had shared was the last straw; she wouldn't risk a friendship with the elf knowing that she might not be willing to reciprocate his obvious feelings for her. So she slightly nodded at Faramir and slipped away down the opposite end of the hallway. She made her way through the castle in search of the one person who might be able to help her.

The Fields of the Pelennor were vast and the grasses on the large plains were growing back slowly, but they neither resembled nor held a candle to the fields of her homeland. Éowyn missed the Riddermark and the hills and rocks that made up the landscape of Rohan. She sat on the Fields of Pelennor now, thinking wistfully of those times in her childhood when she and Éomer would ride out as fast as the winds could carry them. Their childhood had been short-lived but was glorious while it lasted.

She turned then to look back at the castle. The glimmering White City was majestic in the afternoon sun, but still she held herself out for the familiarity of Edoras. Her heart longed for home no matter how much she wished to stay. There were members of the Minas Tirith court that Éowyn would miss very much.

A figure was swaying towards her just then. They had exited the gates of the city and started walking towards her. Her heart quickened momentarily, thinking it might be Faramir, but slowed again when she recognized Aranee. She rose and started walking towards her friend.

"Éowyn," Aranee greeted, her hands outstretched to grasp Éowyn's. "How are you this afternoon?"

Éowyn took the offered hands and side-by-side the two started walked aimlessly along the fields. "In truth, I am very homesick. But I am not nearly as important as some. You look so tired. This business with Aragorn is very troubling. You do not look as though you slept at all last night."

"I'm sure I did, but I cannot seem to feel it. My bones ache. It is a strange feeling for one so young I must admit. But I have an idea."

"An idea? Do tell, please."

"You long for home? I am sure there are responsibilities there that you and your brother must tend to. Would you consider taking me with you?"

"To Edoras?" Éowyn gawked. "That is an odd request."

"Does that mean you wouldn't have me?"

"No! Not at all, that means I don't entirely understand it. But we would love to have you, no doubt." She paused. "Would you be able to postpone your duties here, as a healer I mean? What with Aragorn injured and Arwen having lost her..." She couldn't bring herself to say the words.

Thankfully, Éowyn understood when Aranee suddenly looked away. She reached out to pat her friend's hand. "I understand. You need rest, and being here is not going to bring you that. I wonder though..."

She paused. Aranee frowned. "What do you wonder? Please tell me?"

"I wonder what objections Éomer would raise, if any? He is taken with you, but he is upset. I'm sure you have noticed."

Aranee sighed. Though she had been too busy to think about his attitude, she had noticed Éomer's standoffish and rather cold behaviour and now it worried her. What Éowyn said was true, and Aranee didn't want to go into a territory she was unfamiliar with while Éomer was upset with her. She had no place to escape here, but if she went to Edoras she would have even fewer places to escape to with no acquaintances and no occupation to keep her time.

She looked back up into Éowyn's eyes and found instead of apprehension, understanding and sympathy. "It doesn't matter what Éomer thinks," she told Aranee, "because you are welcome anytime at Edoras. Éomer will not think of denying it anyway, he is far too noble and hospitable to turn you away."

Aranee had doubts, but she was sure all this was true. She needed air to breath and out on the plains of Rohan, she would have that. "Thank you, I greatly appreciate this."

"Please, do not mention it. It is my pleasure to see you back to yourself once again. You have been different since Aragorn's attack, and many have noticed it."

Taken aback, Aranee's head snapped up with a start. "Have they really?" She had meant to say it with surprise but instead it came out a groan. She hadn't realized it was that noticeable. She thought it was just her who could see and feel it. "I'm slipping, Éowyn, and I'm so scared."

Éowyn nodded, taking Aranee's hand into her own. "I know, Aranee. The attack was not something you were prepared for. This hardship was not something you expected on top of discovering Aragorn is your brother. You have things to work through and need a quiet place free of confusion to do so. Let me help; let me give you that quiet place and that time to reaffirm yourself."

Aranee gave her friend a small smile. No one had ever offered her anything like that before. It meant a lot to her. She nodded and reached out to embrace Éowyn. She would go to Edoras and fix all that had been broken.

* * *

Aranee wandered back to Minis Tirith sometime later and found herself moving in the direction of Faramir's room. It was one of the only ways to get back to her room, but she had no desire at the moment to be so removed, especially considering the situation. She wanted to be around these people for a little bit longer, and then she would go to Edoras with Éowyn and Éomer and their party. She would stay there for as long as she needed.

Faramir's door was propped open, something not uncommon for him because he knew Aranee would go through at any hour if need be. He was currently sitting at a desk in the corner, pen poised, scribbling something down on a piece of parchment. She moved through silently, shutting the door behind her, and came to stand behind him. She felt worn and thin, and perhaps even as pale as that parchment. She put both hands on Faramir's shoulders and he stopped writing. He didn't jump or jolt away. He knew her touch far better than anyone's.

"I feel transparent Faramir," Aranee whispered. "If you looked at me sideways, I'd probably disappear and blend right into my surroundings."

His hand dropped his pen and snaked around to grab one of hers. He pulled her around and pushed his chair out so she stood slightly to his side. Then he pulled her down into his lap, as a father would to comfort his child. She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned her forehead against his. "You need time, 'Nee, that's all. You feel thin and transparent because you've been working yourself into a weary state. No one can continue like this, not even you who has the strength of Kings."

"I certainly don't feel like I have the strength of Kings. I could have killed the King because of my stupidity. I even took away their heir. How can I forgive myself for that?"

His hands cupped her face and made her look directly into his eyes. "Because you must. You said so yourself, in order to save the King something else needed to be given to the darkness in return. You saved your brother, 'Nee because you knew that his life in this world was the most important. There is nothing that could have been done otherwise. The darkness you felt had to be appeased and that is what happened."

Aranee stared back at him, her eyes swimming with tears. She had cried a lot in the past couple of days, something she had not known for a very long time. In fact she had never cried in her life as much as she had in the past few days. She inhaled and then exhaled, closing her eyes finally, refusing to let another tear pass. "I'm leaving, Faramir. I am going to Edoras with Éowyn and Éomer."

She opened her eyes to see the surprise written on Faramir's face. "This is unexpected 'Nee, are you certain what you are doing?"

She nodded, "I need the time away. I need to gather my thoughts and to put things back to the way they were. Between this war that has raged and the secrets that have been unearthed and Aragorn's assassination attempt, I am worn thin and ragged. I cannot function like this any longer."

Faramir nodded then, "I understand. I will be sad to see you go. There hasn't ever been a time when you did not live on the top of the mountain, my Lady of the Mountain." He smiled the tiniest of smiles, hoping to encourage her.

His smile warmed her. "I won't stay away forever Faramir. I must be alone with my thoughts though."

"I know. How long do you think you will stay away?"

Aranee shook her head, "Who can tell how much time is enough to heal. It won't be less than six months, perhaps as long as a year."

"That is a long time to be away. Is it wise to leave, knowing Aragorn…" he did not complete the thought, just as Éowyn had not earlier. "Aragorn will be well looked after, as will Arwen. I am certain Ninia has the skill to maintain them just as well as you."

"Yes. I cannot help them anymore. I need to remove myself from the situation and clear my thoughts. Perhaps when I return things will be better."

"Perhaps when you return you might find the courage to tell Aragorn all that needs to be said?" Faramir countered.

Her eyes met his again and she smiled. It would be a great relief to her to have that weight removed from her shoulders. She was not ready for that life yet though. The bowing and scraping and waving, and being targeted as Aragorn had, it was a life that Aranee had tried to avoid for as long as she could remember. "Perhaps."

Faramir smiled his approval and held her closer to him. "I will miss you, 'Nee. You being gone as well as Éowyn, means my life will suddenly get very lonely."

Aranee nearly shed her tears thinking about leaving her dear childhood friend. She couldn't bear to think on it however and merely wrapped her arms around his neck again and held him tight. "I will miss you as well, Faramir. I am sure that in the time I am gone however, you will find many things to keep yourself busy. You are the Steward of the King of Gondor. The city is in repair and while six months seems like a long time, there is so much to be done. I believe it will pass you in the blink of an eye."

She released his neck to look back into his face. His eyes were shimmering with unshed tears threatening to fall. She took her hand and placed it on his cheek, letting him look into her eyes once again. "And as for Éowyn, she and I will take care of one another. Before long she too will return. You know she returns for her Uncle's funeral and the coronation of Éomer, as well as she longs for the sights of her home. It is not because she does not wish to be with you."

"I understand that. I do hope the time will pass quickly and soon enough the women I love so dearly will return to me."

"I will always return to you, Faramir."

* * *

Éomer was walking around his chamber looking for him belongings when he came across the sword. He had been carrying his own around of late and had completely forgotten about his uncle's. It would be buried with him when they returned to Edoras. He laid it flat on his bed and then took out his own sword to exam the similarities and differences. His uncle's sword had seen years more wear than his own, but still both had seen this last battle that had raged this earth. He had hoped to live through to see the days of peace, but he had been content to die for something he believed so deeply in. He was certain that Théoden had thought the same.

Becoming a king was not something Éomer had thought about in his lifetime. Not even in the time he had been here, knowing he would have to return and be crowned as such. Thèodred had been a strong and brave man and would have been a great king. Éomer would have served him honourably. He'd loved Thèodred like a brother and knew that under his rule the lands of Rohan would have prospered.

Now faced with the prospect of stepping into his cousins' boots and fill his empty space in the halls of Meduseld that his family had presided over for centuries, Éomer was terrified. Not only would he have to fill the boots of his cousin, but also those of his uncle, Théoden. He had his doubts but he also had a strong belief in honour and pride and loyalty to his people. He would protect them and fight alongside them if ever there was a need again, though he hoped it would not arise for some time.

His sister would also be there to look after the hall. He had yet to find a wife, and he knew that there would be pressure from his people to take a wife and bear heirs to the House of Eorl. This is where is life got more complicated than he would like it to be. Éomer knew how to take up a sword to any foe, and yet he could not woo a woman to save his life. His instincts, which served him so well on the battlefield, were useless when judging a woman's feelings for him. This he had discovered when he'd taken his sister's advice and tried to woo Aranee. Yet she was resilient and Éomer didn't know how it had happened.

Then after the attack of Aragorn and Arwen having lost her baby, Aranee had been so weary and pale that he had thought it might be heartless of him to bring up her resistance. His sister had acknowledged that this choice had been the right one, which gave Éomer a small sense of accomplishment, but that did not resolve the matter. He was so taken with Aranee that the thought of leaving her here in Minas Tirith was almost painful to him.

There was a knock at the door and he crossed to open it. It was his sister. "Éowyn? Please come in," he moved aside to let her in.

"Thank you, Éomer. I have news." She moved to sit on his bed. She must have noticed the two swords lay out there and immediately her hand was drawn to their uncle's. "Herugrim," she spoke the name of the sword. "It is fitting that his sword should be set to rest with him. It has seen long years and more blood than it should have." Her hand then moved to Éomer's sword, Gúthwinë. "It is also fitting that your 'battle-friend' should be in the hands of our new king." She gripped the sword and rose to pass it to Éomer. "You'll make a find king, Éomer. You bear the weight of ages but also have the wisdom of such as well."

Éomer took the sword from his sister. It was good to hear her faith in him had not faltered. "Thank you Éowyn. Now," he sheathed his weapon and set it by his belongings, "the news you brought?"

"Oh yes, this you will be pleased to hear. Aranee has requested we take her with us to Edoras."

Éomer could not have kept the surprise and joy from his face even should he have wished it. "She has? Why?"

"Her mind is cluttered and her soul is weary," Éowyn replied. "She needs a quiet space and a change of scenery in order to regain her strength and she asked to join us."

Éomer smiled to himself. He was sure within such close quarters in Edoras he would find the courage and knowledge to somehow woo the lovely Aranee. "She knows that we shan't return to Minas Tirith for some time?"

Éowyn nodded. "She knows. This is one of the reasons she wished to accompany us. She isn't expecting to return to Minas Tirith for at least six months, possibly a year." Her smile then waivered and her mouth tightened into a long straight line. "Éomer, you must promise me something?"

"Anything sister," he replied automatically.

"Aranee does not want romantic entanglements. She does not want someone chasing her, hoping that she will make them a good wife. This includes you. You will have duties and things to attend to as King and I know exactly what is going through that mind of yours. On your free time you'll attempt to entice her still. I would advise you against it. She is weak and ill and is in no position to be propositioned for marriage. And, as much as I love you brother, I have a feeling should you woo her successfully, she will never agree to marry you."

Éomer frowned then, his anger tweaked by Éowyn's words. "And why do you say this?"

Éowyn sighed heavily. "A number of things really; she lives high above the city, she requests anyone who calls her 'lady' to cease and call her simply 'Aranee', she avoids the dining hall for meals, and she is not above doing things that would pain her. She does not want a royal life. It is something she has avoided her whole life."

"Her whole life? How can she have avoided it all her life? Is her lineage of royal birth?"

Éowyn shook her head, "You're missing the point Éomer! Do not pursue her. It will only lead to heartache, for the both of you."

* * *

Aragorn's judgment and prosecution of the assassin Ramirez was swift and just according to his advisors. It was not a public display of his power, but rather a quiet blow and the rumours were quickly spread through the city that he had executed the assassin who had tried to claim his life. He hoped that these whispers would drive fear into the hearts of those who opposed him. He was a fair King and would like his people to trust and believe that he would do what was right by them.

Aranee heard the news as she returned down to the dining hall one evening following the day she had asked Éowyn to go to Edoras. She had already spoken to Ninia about the safe-care and healing of both Arwen and Aragorn. Ninia had assured her that everything would be well-looked after and that Aranee's decision to go away was a wise one. They were leaving on the first of the new month, in five days time.

Aranee now approached the dining hall, hoping to find Aragorn and Arwen present, having rested themselves sufficiently for the past ten days, but upon entering the hall she did not see them. She considered turning from the hall and retreating to seek out the king and queen, but it was too late. Legolas and Gimli had seen her and were beckoning her forward. She plastered a weary smile on her face; for it was the only smile she could manage in her state, and moved to greet them.

"Mistress of the Mountain," Gimli greeted her, reaching out to take her hand. "We have long missed you at sup. Are you to join us for the evening?" he took her hand and kissed the back of it graciously.

"Aye, Master Dwarf," she returned. "I will dine with you this night."

"Are you feeling much like yourself again?" Legolas inquired, pulling out a seat for her to sit at. Aranee had not seen Legolas in the few days since speaking to Éowyn. He had been dealing with the trial of Ramirez and Aragorn's healing as well as several other little errands in the city and at Osgiliath across the Plains. Aranee also admitted to herself that she had been avoiding him. The intimacy they'd shared was like a web that wanted to trap her and at the moment she needed to be free.

"I am feeling fractionally better, Master Elf. I have plans in motion that should help me further however, never you fear." She did not wish to be cruel. She would confess to him in private that this decision was not borne out of a desire to escape him, more so to escape her life there in Minas Tirith. He would understand her decision though because he knew what it was like to want to be free.

His eyes could read her, and she knew that at another time he would come to her and ask for an explanation, but right then was neither the time nor place.

The conversation was steady and soon Éomer, Éowyn and Faramir joined the table. Laughter was light and airy and Aranee let it lift her spirits for the night, knowing it would do her much good.

The night was coming to a close and Aranee wanted to rise and find Aragorn before it was too late. Éowyn had pointed out to her that she would need to ask Aragorn's permission to leave court, just as the rest of those staying as guests of the king would need to do. She didn't relish the idea of speaking to him, knowing the pain it brought her, but she had to admit that seeing him would also bring her much joy and continue in her thoughts over the next months she was away.

She left the great hall, saying her farewells to all and went directly to the Kings Quarters. As she approached a door opened and closed. A knot tightly and quickly wove itself in her stomach as Aranee recognized the king. He was still fretfully pale but he was walking on his own and this in itself showed great improvement.

"My Lord," she spoke as she neared him.

He turned and peered at her, recognition flashing across his face and the harsh lines smoothing out. "My Lady Aranee," his smile lit up his face considerably, "I am glad to see you. Are you well?"

Aranee dropped her head, "No, my lord, I am quite unwell." She met his eyes and continued. "I would ask for your permission to leave court. I am accompanying Éowyn and her brother back to Rohan for a time."

Aragorn was surprised. "For a time? How long?"

"It is my understanding that they will not return to Minas Tirith for some months, perhaps a year or more."

"And you are willing to stay away for this length?" Aragorn frowned.

"I am. I…I need the time to gather myself and repair the damage that has been done to my soul." She stared deep into the king's eyes, knowing that these were the eyes of her brother; her brother that she had saved from death's door. She found some semblance in those eyes and hoped that in return he would see all that she needed.

Slowly he nodded. "You have the king's permission, my lady. I wish you well on your endeavours and hope to someday see you healed and to your old and strong self once again."

Aranee smiled then, and not a weary smile as she had done before, but an honest smile. She did not hear the king's wishes in those words, but her brother's, though he had no knowledge of it. "It is also my wish for you, my lord."

Aragorn reached forward to take her hand and she took a step forward. "I also wish to thank you, Aranee," he said, "for you have done more for my wife and I than I could ever had asked a Healer to do. Your pain is in direct correlation to my own and were I strong enough I would heal you myself."

"My hurt is not that can be cured by any man's hands, and this is why I am leaving. Only time can heal these scars."

"Then go with peace and I hope you can someday return to these halls and not feel the weight and burden you feel now."

"These are my hopes as well…Aragorn," she replied softly. She reached her hand up and brushed his cheek in farewell. Something sparked between them and while Aranee knew all too well what it was, Aragorn was a little shocked. He did not jerk but his eyes flashed over her face once more. She was so familiar to him and yet he had never known her before these past months at Minas Tirith. He shook the feeling, thinking his mind only recognized her because she had saved his passing soul in the Otherworld.

Aranee retreated slowly then from his arms. Aragorn then nodded his head low in respect, having said all that could be said, turned and walked in the other direction. Aranee watched his receding form. Things were so different now.

From the first time she'd set her eyes on him, from the first moment she'd known he was her brother; her world had twisted upside down. Now she would regain what power and confidence she had lost and come back to this, her home, brand new. This time was needed, not just because of the events that had occurred with Aragorn, but also because of the events that had occurred because of the war. Aranee knew she might be quite content to remain away from the blood soaked streets of Minas Tirith and the Fields of Pelennor for the rest of her life for she had seen too much blood. But Minas Tirith had been her home for as long as she could remember. And now it was home to the rest of her family. She would come back with courage enough to tell Aragorn the truth and the confidence in herself to continue healing.

Aranee watched as Aragorn turned the corner and disappeared from sight. "Farewell Brother, may we meet again in the not too distant future and know each other better."

_To be continued..._

* * *

Watch for **_Return of the King's Sister Part II_** - Coming Soon!


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